A Teapot in the Dark

In my last regular post, I ended again with that long walk to my van. Faith gone. Disillusioned. Crying. Frightened. In spite of the bright August sun, I was in the dark. I didn't know anyone or anyplace I could look for guidance. All of my regular sources bore the stench of betrayal, and I turned inward.

I feebly attempted to appear happy. It was nice to stay at home, but I grew restless quickly. I tried to make up for the loss of income by clipping coupons, and looking for deals. And I learned that I HATED clipping coupons. (Seriously, still do). I started working fervently on a wedding for a friend, and that became a welcome distraction, but I still felt sick at heart, and numb. Numb, at least until the realization of what had happened in a place that I had loved and defended for years washed over me. So I capitulated between disinterest, empty euphoria, and tears. 

I had a health issue that had grown worse during the year or so before that made my emotions all the more volatile. After a falling out with the bride I was helping, I turned over all the work I had done, and was not able to see the fruits of my labor at the wedding. And, honestly, the dark got even darker. And I was bitter, bitter, bitter, and so sad. God had deserted me. I was sure of this. And Satan whispered often to me that I was of no worth, and that God was distant and uncaring.

There were many conversations with acquaintances that ended in "If you could just pray and find a good church, you will be so much better." At that point they might have well told me to slather my self in syrup and stand on ant hill. Prayers ended in tears and bitterness, and church services? They turned my stomach. "All these stupid people gobbling this stuff up. What have they done differently than me? Just wait. You'll all find out just how futile all of this is." This inner monologue went on and on. I am still grateful that no one could read my mind. It all just. . . . hurt, both physically and mentally.

It would be a wonderful thing to say that all of this is now resolved, and that every, single day I am a happy, giddy Christian flitting about Greenville with wings strengthened by God's grace, but that's a lie. Many days are still dark. The story of my dark times continues, but I will soon share what God does for a sad, short, stout gal who has lost her faith, and trust.

Even as I write this, my heart heaves with a recent, new hurt, and my emotional state is, let's say "fragile." (Goodness-I do seem to cry in some way with every single emotion. I am soooo not a Vulcan). I struggle with a loss of support from someone close to me. I know that God sent that person along to help me during the dark times after leaving Bob Jones. But, for now, due to a transgression on my part, that support is gone, and I'm not sure I will ever gain it back. 

I say that not to discourage, but to share a lesson I am learning right now, in this moment. Because God did bring me through those dark times before, and

He did show me the light even when I tried to close my eyes tight and turn away, I know that He is still there. He does still care. I know what my heart wants, but I am willing to follow Him, even if it pulls me away from people very dear to me. No, I don't want that to happen. Not. At. All. But God sees all, and He will provide what I need. He is never the problem. It's me. But, He loves me anyway. That's pretty amazing. 

So, my plan in my next post is to share a few more details of my lessons learned, and how God works in those details.

Prayers for all of you.

Serve God. Love others.

Teapotjan

A Tea Light in the Dark

Growing up I lived in the country about three miles outside of a small town. We had a few neighbors scattered about, but far away from street lights and big buildings, night time blanketed all of us in dark. It amazed the little, younger me that it was far easier to spot the location of some neighborhood houses after dark than in the bright daylight. We were surrounded by trees, and greenery blocking the view during the day. But at night, the neighbor's lights peeked through the tree branches until the final light was clicked off by the last person awake in that house.

I live the life of a city dweller now in a subdivision with many neighbors, street lights, and buildings close at hand.The night never quite gets its blanket tucked all the way around my home. So I shut the curtains at bedtime, and turn off the lamps, and the light fixture above the bed, and close my eyes to sleep the deep sleep of the tired and stressed. But even through tightly shut eyes I still see a glow emanating from the digital display on the cable box. It's not really noticeable during the day unless I'm looking straight at it, but without the competition of sunlight and table lamps it sears the bright light of its message straight into my brain. So, I throw a cover over it, or hide-it-under-a-bushel-yes!--so to speak. 

A few days ago, I wrote about life in the Bubble. The Bubble stands to be a place where lights go to learn how to burn brighter, share tips on how to maintain a good glow, and how to share the light with others. Not a problem, this is a good thing. The problem comes when all the lights stay in the Bubble. All gathered together blazing and illuminating the nearby dark. "Nearby" being the operative problem term. The brightest light in the Bubble overwhelmed in the midst of all the other bright lights.

We must take our light out of the Bubble. Friends, there exists an entire world blanketed by the dark. A world asleep to the knowledge that God loves them and wants to give them eternal light and life. We can be like that one display on my cable box shining brightly enough on its own to light the whole room around us.

Hide my light under a bushel? No! Hide it in a Bubble with a bunch of other lights? No! Let my light shine and show others Him? I pray YES!

In His light,

Teapotjan