On Hitting Rock Bottom...

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One of the things that changed over the past few months was the way I saw God. Up till this moment, my faith in Him had been unshaken. Even in times of testing, I’d always had the underlying belief that God would be good to me. “Good” obviously, as I saw “goodness” – with things going my way and I (and those around me) being happy.

Even through the pain of losing a loved one, I could see some measure of His goodness. Glimpses of His strength and grace that were sustaining us all. But as the hits kept coming, one after another, my grasp on the Light began to slip and as darkness began to crowd in, I felt, for the first time, fear. I was afraid of God. Afraid of His omniscience and omnipotence. Afraid to ask Him for a reprieve because I didn’t know what would come my way. Afraid of Him – cause He, who stated He loved me with an everlasting love, was suddenly, inexplicably, terrifying in His coldness. I didn’t understand Him anymore. He seemed remote and aloof; implacable in His cruelty.

This was new territory for me. I’ve felt many things for God, but never a debilitating fear! Every time I’d try to pray, a tiny voice would whisper, “But maybe He won’t grant it.” I was scared to put my faith in Him. Scared that things were only going to get worse. I found myself completely bereft of faith. I didn’t know how to believe Him anymore. It was the most unutterably lonely feeling I’ve ever had.  

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