In the vision, Camden was patting my rounded belly, saying "Bebe."
I would have been nearly 19 weeks pregnant today. I would have been almost halfway finished. We would know the gender of our little love.
And then I was back on the couch. Kind of stuck. One foot in my reality, one foot in how I wish things could be.
Kind of how I've felt the past year.
If I'm honest, I'm pretty pissed. I'm pretty pissed at my God, whom I cried out to from the bench at the edge of our bed, begging Him not to take another baby. Willing my body to hold it in, not to fail me again, for the blood to stop flowing. I'm pretty pissed at my God who keeps giving only to take away. Why? Why give at all if I'm only allowed to hold it for what feels like a millisecond?
I haven't been talking to Him much lately other than to yell at Him. I haven't thought much of my faith other than to question if it's all a crock of shit. If the constant seeking truth really amounts to freedom. If the following Him to deserts is worth the dry heat searing my exposed flesh.
But then I listen to these words:
Halleluhjah
You have won the victory
Hallelujah
You have won it all for me
Death could not hold you down
You are the risen King
Seated in majesty
You are the risen King
I watch the band as they sing, study the faces in the crowd of worshippers. What have they overcome? What hell on Earth have they endured, what path have they walked to end up here: choosing to praise and honor the name of Jesus, joyful expressions on faces upturned?
I suddenly realize I have a choice: Keep looking around me and what I've lost, at what's been taken. Keep living in my anger that is acting as a prison, chaining down my arms so that I can't lift them to praise. Leaving marks on my wrists, the wounds fresh and stinging and reminding me of my circumstance. Soul blackened by the poisoned thoughts. Keep living in the angry, bitter place.
Or I can look up.
I can look at Him. I can leave the questions behind, let the anger fall away. Because I know this place... where the light of His face is, darkness has no room. When I fix my eyes on Him, choosing to let everything else go, I'll be overcome by the glory of Him. The love that flows freely despite my selfish wandering, my choice to stay imprisoned for far too long. The grace that is new each time I look up after looking down for so long.
I realize I've known it all along, that I have this choice. That God won't force anything on me. That He gives me the freedom to be angry with Him, to question my circumstances. To fear taking another step, not knowing if it will lead to more loss. But I also know that He loves me all the same.
I'm not without my burdens, my questions, or my anger. But despite that, in the deepest part of my soul, I know the truth:
He HAS won it all.
Our anger, our questions, our hurts are not too much for Him. They might be too much for our religion, our laws, even our church culture. But they are not too much for Him. When we push him away, His love moves toward us. We are never outside of His vision. We are never left alone, never forsaken.
So I sing along:
Our God is risen
He is alive
He won the victory
He reigns on High
Our God is risen
He is alive
He won the victory
He reigns on high
Our God is risen
He is alive
He won the victory
He reigns on high
Hallelujah
You have won the victory
Hallelujah
You have won it all for me
Death could not hold you down
You are the risen King
Seated in majesty
You are the risen King
And as I sing, I let room in for Hope. I hope that my questions, my doubts, my fears, will be overcome by Him who beat even the finality of death.
And in the meantime? I let love in. For the first time in months, I let His love wash over me. Let it run like a river down my arms in chains, healing my wounds. Let it flood my heart, taking over the darkness.
Let love in. Let love in.
Let His love in.
