I think I have faith like Jello. Translucent, seems to be solid, but boy does it jiggle.
Kind of like my belly.
Okay, so I’m being a bit foolish. But I keep on running into these little walls that I think are massive mountains that are keeping me from progressing and I just fall on my jiggly bottom and wail.
Why do you hate me God?
As a Christian, that last question, especially, is downright stupid. I know that God doesn’t hate me. I know that He loves me even though I have done nothing, absolutely nothing to deserve His grace and mercy.
But, recently, I keep on tripping on my wiggly, jiggly faith. I take a step forward on this journey and my unstable feet combined with precarious balance means my ankles roll and down I slam.
Wiggly, jiggly faith means crappy baby steps.
For example. My debit card replacement was supposed to arrive about a week ago. It hasn’t. According to the bank, it was activated (obviously not by me). No money was spent on it. I closed that sucker down. And then I wallowed. Is my mailbox secure?
Oh, and the new health insurance cards haven’t arrived yet either. And when my husband called on those, the company said they had no record of our existence.
Oh, the wiggly, jiggly faithless girl went into her office and just silently wailed in her head.
Why do you hate me God?
Oh ye of wiggly, jiggly faith.
My faith is great when life is smooth and easy. I thought it was strong to carry me through tough times.
And, realistically, these aren’t even that tough.
My bank account wasn’t emptied.
My house (which hasn’t sold which is a huge source of anxiety for me) is intact and hasn’t been vandalized.
Oh, wait a minute, turns out we are covered by health insurance and I just emailed the cards to myself.
And my new debit card will arrive at the local branch by Monday of next week so that I can pick it up at the bank and everything is secure.
Stupid Graceless, God doesn’t hate you. But He is putting you in the foundry to peel away the weaknesses and the insecurities and the lack of confidence that you have so that you can emerge a stronger woman, a woman more prepared for whatever future is on your horizon.
God has passionately answered my prayers. Most of them are in so many forms of “yes” that the blessings are beyond countable. Recently, the no’s feel prolific and are very painful.
I hit my 100 agent no’s and am floundering on what to do with that. I have one possible yes out there in the emotional stratosphere that I’m still waiting on. But my confidence is so low that I’m just waiting for “no”-number 101.
Not going to lie. The wiggly, jiggly faith is really low on that one. But I also know that this is God’s will. I asked Him to do things according to His will and He has answered me.
I must have more faith than that of Jello.
Translucent faith doesn’t mean that I’m clear and open to the world. It doesn’t mean that people can look within me and see God’s love like little nuggets of fruit cocktail suspended within me (boy, this metaphor/simile combination is getting to be even more goofy). No, translucent faith means that I have no substance. I have such little fiber within me I fear that I am the chaff, the spotted goat.
I live within my faith and choose to try and strengthen and reinforce and develop my faith. But that means that when I am on the kinder, gentler version of Job’s path, I can’t collapse on my butt and wail because things are going the way I planned them.
My faith is based on God’s plan. God’s will. Not mine. His.
And to keep ripping His plan out of His hands and editing them for Him, drawing arrows and creating shortcuts for myself that will give me temporary comfort but inhibits my growth is just detrimental for me.
It’s detrimental for the people I am supposed to serve.
I grew a backbone last year. I triumphed in my vertebral rigidity. It’s time to shove that sucker back into place, pull myself up by the bootstraps, and get back on God’s path that doesn’t need any more wiggly, jiggly tentative footsteps.
I’m shoving my feet in my boots, God. Give me a second. I’m right behind you.