We were hit with a hurt this week. A deliberate, on purpose, intentional hurt. It went deeper than a bruise or a cut, it was a heart hurt. I've struggled this week with doubt, anger, pain, anxiety, confusion and desperation. I have questioned how we've lived- yet again- why we work and belive in living with intention, integrity and respect, homeschool, the sacrifices we've made, the lack of support, the ridicule, the difficult path we've chosen. Why sacrifice and live intentionally when the result is contempt and pain, the challenges unrelenting and the wins hard won, few and far between?
We have been fighting this week- spiritually fighting. My husband and I have been praying day and night- literally -as we've both been up late, up early and awake at 3 a.m. worried, hurting, desperate for God to show up and fix things. I'm a pray-er- at least I always was until 2 years ago. It's like the death of my Dad and the bitter disappointments that were left behind at his funeral dried up the wellspring of natural conversation I've always had with the Father. But I was getting back on my feet- feeling like I was finally standing on 2 again, a bit wobbly, but not shattered- for the first time since his death 2 years ago. But honestly, I kinda don't feel like praying so much. Like, really, if someone wants to make an idiot of themselves- maybe eternally- it's not my problem. They can pray for themselves, or just not, and suffer the consequences. After all, the people who have prayed consistently for me in life have been few and far between. Why should I bother? This person knows the Truth (at least they did) but they are willfully and intentionally ignoring it and touting the fact that they have done so; flagrantly living in a way that makes a mockery of the faith they claim to be living.
But that's just it, isn't it? The enemy of our souls would love it if we were bench warming believers. People who claim faith when their bills are paid, the kids buttoned up and pretty looking, their jobs in place and the marriages without conflict. Oh yeah. Faith. Faith without works is dead, baby and that's why Dr. Dh continually tells me that we are faithing. We are acting in faith, believing in faith, praying in faith, faithing in faith. Faith is a verb, and if it's not, if it's stagnant and just about putting on a skirt and shaking hands on Sunday morning, going through ritual and getting kudos without having a heart and purpose for God, than it's whitewashed sepulcher dead.
So we are fighting, in faith. Praying, in faith. Believing in faith. Faithing.
We have been fighting this week- spiritually fighting. My husband and I have been praying day and night- literally -as we've both been up late, up early and awake at 3 a.m. worried, hurting, desperate for God to show up and fix things. I'm a pray-er- at least I always was until 2 years ago. It's like the death of my Dad and the bitter disappointments that were left behind at his funeral dried up the wellspring of natural conversation I've always had with the Father. But I was getting back on my feet- feeling like I was finally standing on 2 again, a bit wobbly, but not shattered- for the first time since his death 2 years ago. But honestly, I kinda don't feel like praying so much. Like, really, if someone wants to make an idiot of themselves- maybe eternally- it's not my problem. They can pray for themselves, or just not, and suffer the consequences. After all, the people who have prayed consistently for me in life have been few and far between. Why should I bother? This person knows the Truth (at least they did) but they are willfully and intentionally ignoring it and touting the fact that they have done so; flagrantly living in a way that makes a mockery of the faith they claim to be living.
But that's just it, isn't it? The enemy of our souls would love it if we were bench warming believers. People who claim faith when their bills are paid, the kids buttoned up and pretty looking, their jobs in place and the marriages without conflict. Oh yeah. Faith. Faith without works is dead, baby and that's why Dr. Dh continually tells me that we are faithing. We are acting in faith, believing in faith, praying in faith, faithing in faith. Faith is a verb, and if it's not, if it's stagnant and just about putting on a skirt and shaking hands on Sunday morning, going through ritual and getting kudos without having a heart and purpose for God, than it's whitewashed sepulcher dead.
So we are fighting, in faith. Praying, in faith. Believing in faith. Faithing.
2 comments:
*hugs*
I know you aren't Catholic, but have you ever heard of Augustine's mother, Monica?
Your Dr. Dh is right, even if it is hard to actually do.
"The unceasing prayers of St. Monica helped many including her husband, Patricius; his mother, her children - Navigius, Perpetua and her eldest son, Augustine. Never underestimate the power of prayer."
Hello,
I just found your blog through Cindy at Ordo Amoris and I just wanted to say "Thank You!!" for this post! It was very comforting and convicting.
Pressing onward,
Monica
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