I so don’t want to be here. I know I said, “God I want this,” but it looks nothing like I thought it would. Everything within me wants to go some place else.
And anytime I try, I get about halfway and realize, what’s the point? It’s not going to change anything.
I’m not stuck at work, in traffic, or even in a job I don’t like. I’m stuck in the place God wants me to be—and I don’t want to be here. It’s called dependence.
God says it’s required, He says anything else is an illusion. I think it stinks. I hate it. God put me anywhere but here.
I’m having to depend on God like I never have before. Instead of giving me a pile of cash and saying, “Here you go” I feel like I’m having to beg Him for every penny. Instead of sitting down and effortlessly putting phrases together, I’m having to wrestle with words. Instead of feeling a zeal and excitement for life, I’m having to walk numbly through each day. Instead of simply telling people “you just need to trust God,” I’m having to live it out in areas of my life—and in deeper ways—that have been previously off limits to God.
I want God to be there when I need Him—and deep down I don’t want to have to need Him this much. I don’t like being this dependent. This needy. I feel so weak, helpless. I want to be strong. I want others to need me, and I don’t want to have to need others. Life works better that way. I don’t incur any debts. People owe me, I don’t owe them.
I knew life was about to change. I felt like something different was coming. It always happens. You start getting closer to God and He begins to shake up your life.
I felt like God was going to grow me in a few areas of my life. I was even pretty excited about it at first. I said bring it on. I just didn’t realize that it would look like this. I didn’t realize that so much more of me would have to die. I thought I had already killed off a lot of my sinful, fleshy ways. I thought wrong.
Now I’m at a point of complete dependence, and I’m fighting it all the way. I don’t know why. I know all the answers. I know that any attempt at a struggle is useless. God is good. I can trust Him.
But I still want to fight Him. I still want to whine. I still want to throw a tantrum and get what I want.
There’s something within me that wants to fight this—and I think that’s what God is trying to uncover. There’s something within my life that I trust more than God. God calls that an idol. I call it comfort.
But I can never be all I’m supposed to be if I hang on so tightly to all that I think I am. The me God sees is different than the me Tim sees. That’s a good thing.
But the process of depending on Him is brutal—not for Him, but for me. I don’t want to let go. I don’t want to trust. I don’t want to hurt.
But there’s really no other way. Sure, I could settle for less. I can just go back to the routine and do life my own way. Figure it out for myself. Tell God I’ve got it covered. But then again, I would be settling.
I don’t want to settle.
So whether I like it or not, here I am God. I want you to provide the money I need, the words I’m looking for, the excitement I’m seeking.
But I want you to do all that more than I want to depend on You.
That’s the point, isn’t it?
I have to want You more. Okay, I get it—kind of. I’m still not completely there.
I don’t want to be here, but I don’t want to leave. And so I’ll hang on to You, God, no matter what. Take my life—all of it. Even if you have to pull it away from my trembling hands. Because I know, really know, that there’s really no other way.
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