Lord, it's said that many people who suffer catastrophic loss go through up to five stages of profound grief. Do we even recognize the process when the bottom falls out of our world and our heart feels it has nothing upon which to rest as each agonizing beat thuds in our chest?
Is that what Your grief feels like, but without the human process?
Might I have avoided the denial if I'd have been walking more closely in Your shadow? Or would I be too prideful and selfish to recognize my problems anyway? I don't want to beat myself up any more, but I also don't want to miss whatever You might still teach me there.
I suppose the downright sinful part was the anger toward You. I know it only happened a few times, in moments of greatest pain—like an injured animal which bites its beloved master. But I'm not an animal. How could I ever be angry with You for even a moment? I still can't believe I did that. I'm so sorry, Lord. You know I love You. I don't ever want to question You again.
Just how did I manage to touch You when I bargained? When I became desperate for something to change, then dug in my heels and started fasting? You said fasting was not the means to manipulate You, and I said yeah I guess I knew that but kept fasting because I wasn't willing to keep going the way it was. And then You said fasting wasn't a means by which You'd force someone else to move and I said okay whatever but I've got to do something and so I kept fasting. And then another blow came and I simply gave up. I was so broken, Lord, so very broken ...
But things did start to change.
Was there a way to lie shattered and broken without lapsing into depression? Or is that exactly the place from which You wanted me to cry out, "Though He slay me, yet I will hope in Him"—? Did my wail reach the gates of Hell when I told the devil, "Go ahead. Keep up your crap. You might convince me all joy in life is over. You might know where to tempt me and how to exploit my weaknesses and make me stumble. You've made me wish I was dead. But you will not make me curse God! My God is good, and He is good all the time!"
My Lord, I know I have Your acceptance. Does Your will have mine yet? I speak it more often than I feel it. It's been really hard, Abba. I'm afraid to believe I've really heard You speak reassurance, because I still remember Your rebuke. I know You had to do that. But it also hurt more than everything else combined, to see my sinfulness the way You do and feel Your displeasure.
I know Your acceptance is so much bigger than Your displeasure. Thank You for showing me acceptance this day.
Thank You that Your displeasure only touched me and shall not prevail, because of Jesus. Please show me how to walk in Your acceptance, Abba. Please shield my heart from the darkness which could ever again prompt Your displeasure.
Please be gentle with me, my Lord; for I am so small and broken and weak, and You are so great and glorious and mighty.
For You have hidden Your face from us,
And have consumed us because of our iniquities.
But now, O LORD, You are our Father;
We are the clay, and You our potter;
And all we are the work of Your hand.
Do not be furious, O LORD,
Nor remember iniquity forever;
Indeed, please look—we all are Your people!
~ Isaiah 64:7-9 (NKJV)