Sometimes I like to think my heart is like a house with many rooms and expansive walls where pieces of art of various sizes are hung. In many of these rooms I enjoy inviting people to freely roam as I share with them the meaning behind each piece. My favorite pieces are the huge ones that represent amazing logic defying God moments.
If you came visiting friend you would find a large piece of when I was 15 being told by one neurologist and 2 doctors that I would live the rest of my life with epilepsy because of scarring to a certain part of my brain(another story for another time). You would see that after 6 months of constant fits and taking up to 9 different medication a day I got tired of it all and told God, I could not, would not accept what the doctors had told me and expected that He would defy them and heal me…He did! My life has never been the same since then.
You would find another of when all I had left was 2 days before 200 children would come to my house to get fun, christmas presents and food( 2 meals per day) for 5 days and we had no money to cover anything. Without sending out emails of desperate pleas for help we quietly asked God to fix the situation and oh how he did, 20 mins after praying we received a phone call from friends saying they wanted to cover all the costs. The children had the time of their lives. God came through for us!
Then there are other rooms where the pieces are still being painted, history being made and more amazing logic defying God moments just waiting to happen.
Still, there are other rooms that are difficult to visit. No matter how far away I throw the keys, from time to time I find them back in my hand, stuck like glue forcing me to open the door to what I can only describe as the dark basement of my heart.
Here you will find portrait’s covered in dust, some slashed, torn or burned others covered in black paint all feeble attempts to cover what once was beautiful but turned into something too painful gaze upon. The air in this room hangs heavy with disappointment, pain and dare I say … failure. It doesn’t matter how hard I try to destroy a canvas little tell-tale signs always remind of what it used to represent.
Here is the piece of the little boy with crippling cerebral palsy that I visited and poured my love on, praying that God would change his sad difficult life. A week later the mother fed him boiling oil because she got tired of looking after him. He lived a life of constant pain and left this world in excruciating pain…he was only 7. God let me down, that’s what the black paint covering the portrait represents.
This one is after praying and fasting for 5 days pleading with God that he protect the few girls under my care against the horrors of rape only to be presented with the toughest rape case I have yet dealt with. My little girl was so badly raped by two men that she could not walk for 2 weeks. ..she was only 8. God bitterly disappointed me, that’s what the shredding and the burning state.
If you look more carefully in the darker corners you will find pieces that not only are torn, burned and covered in black paint but are also stuffed away so that if my eyes wander around, I don’t accidentally see them. These are the times when I was 110% sure I was doing what God wanted and that even when it became impossibly difficult to stand firm eventually I would come out victorious. Only in these paintings, a sense of complete confusion and failure complete the piece. God you hurt me, that’s what my heart says.
I don’t have proper answers for all the difficult situations I have met that make me question on many occasions if trusting in Jesus is really worth it. After spending time in the basement I always come out knowing this, my God is perplexing and unpredictable and He is no genie that will do my bidding. Even when I cannot see it He is always working everything to His glory.
Question is, can I continue to put my trust in the God who reserves the right not to explain to me why ?!