There are so many things in life that I just don't understand.
I don't understand people who stir up drama. I can spot them a mile away. They always say things like, I'm not one to stir up drama, but...
I don't understand what's happening in Missouri right now. How is looting, arson, and robbery going to make white people like, trust and treat black people any better? Won't it have the opposite effect?
I don't understand why people that the church has sent as missionaries are so quickly forgotten. Aren't we responsible for the ones we send?
I don't understand how once strong, deeply connected church leaders get so far off track. Why doesn't the Spirit expose their pride before they destroy other people? Or call them to repentance?
I don't understand a lot of things. Some things I think I might understand, but then find out I really didn't have a clue. Other times, I do understand.
I understand my own faithlessness. I lose heart, give up, give in, have a pity party, and wallow. I understand my shallow faith that is so quick to forget the Father who loves me and has everything in His hand. I understand my fear that maybe this is all a joke or maybe I'm not saved after all; the fear that I'll completely fall on my face.
I understand that my sin entangles me like the thorns and briars of a young wood. It snatches at my hair, grips my clothes, cuts me and scrapes my skin, then leaves it's poison to add an ongoing ache.
I understand suffering. The separation and grief of death. The quiet and bone -deep sorrow of listening to a loved one's final breath. The agony of trying to get life's last blood out of carpet. The terror of PTSD.
I understand it because I've lived it.
I may not understand God, but I cling to Him by faith. I wrap my arms and legs as tightly as my spiritual muscles can hold. I shout the truth of His love and forgiveness until my throat is hoarse. And when I am too tired, too weak, too faithless and fearful, I surround myself with friends who will keep shouting it to me.