More often than not, I’m just offering a glimpse into my far from perfect life, sharing pieces of my heart in the hope that maybe one person might feel less alone, or have a reason to smile or laugh in the middle of a season that doesn’t hold many chances to drift off into a world that isn’t as heavy as the one on their shoulders. Truth be told, it’s a bit of a selfish act because I get to try to make sense of all the things that are floating around in my mind and heart by stringing these words together and sending them off into the world. Somehow it forces me to pay attention to little details that I often think are inconsequential; but when I put the pieces together, there’s a bigger picture that I need to face. As a person who would much rather ignore her own struggles and focus on the people and things around her, this is both a blessing and a curse. But in a herculean effort to practice what I preach, here are some of the hard truths I’m coming to terms with.

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Life is awful sometimes. People (I’m including myself in this generalization) can be unaware, impatient, judgmental and even cruel. No amount of planning, worrying (yes I know we aren’t supposed to admit that we do that, especially as “good Christian girls” but I’m also not a good liar so yes, I worry, before, during and after prayer because, well, I’m a work in progress and a room temperature mess on a good day) will ever really prepare us for the seasons where our world crumbles around us and there isn’t enough left to be able to glue it back together. People we love leave us, even when death doesn’t give them a choice. Families shatter and those effects are like a tidal wave that keep trying to drown us despite how many times we find our way to the surface for air. Friendships change and those ebbs and flows can start to erode our own sense of worthiness of the kindness and forgiveness from people we’ve failed. The life we’ve worked so hard to build can come crashing down around us, burying us under the weight of all that we have lost and the losses that are still waiting their turn.

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No one wants to think about the likelihood of experiencing any one of these things, much less all of them at once. It’s terrifying and exhausting and whatever stronger synonyms there are out there that I can’t remember. And in case you’re wondering, I’m right in the middle of all of it and 0/10 would not recommend. But there are a few benefits of growing up when I did, with parents who raised me in church where we went just about any time the doors were open. Some of those stories and lessons you start hearing as a child keep coming back to your mind, and with the experience of getting older, you start to see them and understand them a bit differently than you once did.

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Job’s story has been on my heart lately on repeat, probably because I can be a slow learner and God is unrelentingly patient with me until I come to my senses and pay attention. Most of us know it as a story of blessings, unimaginable loss, faithfulness, and a life rebuilt. But if you look a little deeper, it’s a story about struggles many of us know well. First off, Job worked hard to build a life and a family, and walked closely with God, always trusting His will. Then, like a long line of dominoes, he experienced tragic, personal, soul crushing losses, one sending the next crashing down, until everything was gone. His home, his income, everything he needed to make ends meet. Then his children were killed, and his wife, the most treasured things on this earth were ripped from him in a moment. He suffered from a painful, physical disease, his heart and mind broken from grief, and his words spoke of severe depression. But even with the loss of everything he had and loved, even with the physical, mental and spiritual emptiness he felt…even with his wife and friends who’s form of “encouragement” was to judge, most likely because they were uncomfortable with his pain. Nevertheless, he persisted. He was honest with God about his pain. His prayers weren’t pretty and polished. They were raw, sorrow filled words, not trying to clean them up before presenting them to God. He even asked that God end his suffering by taking his life. But intwined with those messy prayers, he still acknowledged God’s faithfulness and found a way to praise in in the middle of his pain.

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And here comes the eucatastrophe (shout out to J.R.R. Tolkien for coining a term that’s an infinitely more elegant way to describe the moment everything seems lost right before grace barges in) Job’s devotion and unwavering faith were blessed by God. Not by restoring or rebuilding the life he once had. But by creating a new start for his second act. He gave him a new home, new love, new family and those ended up being even greater than he had before. It’s a story of hope showing us that our current or past circumstances are not where our journey ends. That we can have faith that God’s plans for us aren’t based on whatever mess we find ourselves currently sitting in.

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So many people I know, myself included, were failed in many ways by churches and leaders that pushed us away instead of bringing us closer to a savior who gave every ounce of himself, including unimaginable pain and death, leading some to believe that meant we were being pushed away by God as well. And while I am not someone that claims to know much about, well, anything really, I do know this without a shadow of a doubt. God did not and is not pushing us away. Not now. Not ever. We may walk away, but He doesn’t. He doesn’t even stay where we left Him, leaving us a long journey to find our way back. He’s always just a single step behind waiting for us to turn around.

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And while I personally have no idea what my life is going to look like in a year, a month, or even tomorrow, and while I can’t see a way out of the darkness I’ve found myself in, I am choosing, today and every other day, to trust that I am loved by the One who created it. That His plans are better than mine, even when I can’t see a way through. And to do my best to love those around me with everything I am and everything I have, even when it’s not enough. Because somehow, and some way, there’s a “second act” waiting for us, too.

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"There are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind."

- C.S. Lewis