The Living Room Battlefield

This happened a few days ago.  Crazy stuff and I just keep feeling like I’m supposed to share.

I have been trying to be very intentional about my bible reading and study.  I have even been getting up with Jack before work so that between the time that he leaves and the kids get up, I can get that time alone, uninterrupted (thanks a lot Proverbs and all your sluggard talk!).  I’m reading through the bible again this year and I’m also in my third Celebrate Recovery step study (this year focusing on my control issues) so I have a lot to get done each day.  I feel like God planned it that way, knowing I would have extra time on my hands….. :(

I was sitting in my living room and I was reading the end of John chapter 4 and the beginning of chapter 5.  The first part is about an official whose son is sick and he asks Jesus to heal him and he does.  Then the next part was about a paralytic who has been sitting by the pool for years and Jesus asks him if he wants to be healed and he heals him.

Enter darkness.

I sat in my living room and a regret and guilt swept over me like I have never felt before.  My mind was flooding with thoughts that Laila wasn’t healed because I didn’t have enough faith.  If I had only believed, truly believed, that God would heal her and we wouldn’t be where we are today.  So. much. guilt. that I couldn’t breathe.  Sobs overwhelmed me and I cried out to God asking Him why.  Why were these thoughts coming into my head, and especially when I’m sitting there trying to seek Him and His wisdom through the best place possible, His Word.  I had been so at peace with how things had shaken down.  Get me right here, not ok with her death, but peace that I felt like I had done everything I could and that God had directed our decision with hospice and all of that.  And all of a sudden as I’m reading the bible it was all gone.  No peace, just panic, guilt and shame.

I sat there thinking that I couldn’t live like this (not suicidal), with this heavy deep guilt that I couldn’t get out from under.  I cried and cried and I finally got up and grabbed my phone and texted my sponsor and told her that there was a battle going on in my living room for my sanity and my peace and I needed her to pray with me.

I sat and asked God for wisdom and understanding.  I needed to know why He didn’t heal her.  Was it my fault?  Did I not have enough faith?

Then a whisper……. “I DID heal her.”

You guys, I literally felt like I was a disciple in the boat during the raging storm and Jesus was sitting there sleeping while I was panicking and wondering why He wouldn’t help me.  Then it was just like the story, with His few words He calmed the storm.  Four words.  I did heal her. He did, just not the way I wanted Him to.

I immediately stopped crying and could breathe again.  It reminded me of the night she died and I just couldn’t get control until I had her in my arms.  Except this time I just couldn’t get a grip until He had me in His arms.

Spiritual battles are real folks.  So real.  And I hesitated writing this because I know it sounds looney but I just couldn’t shake that maybe there is someone else out there who needed to hear this.  The enemy is so sneaky!  This time he even used God’s own Word to try to get at me.

Well played Satan but you forgot that my God has already defeated you and I will hang on to Him tight, like a terrified child on a roller coaster.  Now that I think about it….. that’s kinda what I am.

Thanks for letting me share.

PS – my little spiritual warrior is pretty cute, huh??!! :)