Unfortunately, the title has absolutely nothing to do with anything at all that I’ve written in this post. I’ve never even had an actual conversation with Bill Swan, but I assumed that the title would make you read this blog. For those of you that don’t know who Bill Swan is, he’s an important guy with The World Race. The director or something. He’s a pretty funny guy. Anyway, moving on…
I don’t want to write this blog. Writing this blog feels a little bit like taking my trousers (pants means underwear in Africa) off in public and everyone seeing that I have on my ugly granny panties (or pants, if you’re African). It’s revealing. It’s not really something I want to talk about to you people, but God seems to insist that it’s necessary, and to be frank I’m tired of arguing with Him about it. And also, my reward for being vulnerable is that we’re having tacos for dinner tonight.
I want to go home. Not in the laugh-y, jokey I-need-macaroni-and-cheese-from-the-Outback-a-chocolate chip cookie from Subway, a vanilla coke and to maybe sleep a full night’s sleep without fear of a spider the size of a watermelon crawling straight from the depths of hell to snuggle with you, kind of way. What I mean is that I want to go home. My mom needs me. My niece and nephew need me. My aunt needs me. My grandmother needs me. My brother needs me. My dad needs me. I need to go home.
I say this because I’ve been having nightmares. Not the kind of Hollywood movie production nightmares where you wake up screaming in a cold sweat and somebody runs in and gives you a hug and a cookie and you go back to sleep. No no, my nightmares don’t stop when the night stops. They exist in the day as well, haunting me and taunting me. They have turned into another dimension I live in and function in and sometimes its impossible for me to separate the nightmares from reality.
I see my mom unconscious on the floor, dying, her blood sugar dropping like time on a clock counting down to zero but I can’t save her.
I see my dad with the weight of the world on his shoulders like Atlas holding up the sky, asking for help but I’m not there to take the weight for him.
I see so many other images of my family in desperate need of me, screaming and begging and pleading at me to come, but I’m always too far away to help. I am exhausted. I want to quit. I don’t want to see these things anymore. I don’t want to hear them. They’re scary. I want to fix it. I want it to stop. I want to go home.
I know enough to know that I am under spiritual attack. I know enough to know that the enemy is tired of me being here, and loving people, and showing them Jesus. I know enough to know that my family is the best possible way the enemy could get me to go home. I know enough to know that he is unrelenting and unmerciful, and that I am weak and weary, and that right now he is beating me. However, I also know that I serve a very real, very mighty, very powerful God and that I am His and He is mine and He is on my side.
These are some things I know to be true, with no distortion or lies from the enemy:
My mom is sick, but she always has been and God has always protected her. He has never failed.
My dad is tired and weary, but God is his strength, so he cannot fail.
My grandmother is sick, but God knows what He’s doing.
My aunt is sick, but she got good news from the doctor yesterday, and that’s enough to rejoice about.
My brother is sick now, but God is the healer and I trust Him with it.
Another thing I know to be true is that God is good. He is so, so good, and He never ever fails.
I think about when Abraham had Isaac laid out on that altar ready to sacrifice him because God told him too. What’s amazing to me is that Abraham didn’t question God. He didn’t say, “Sorry God, but you’re asking too much of me. I can’t give him up for you.” Abraham trusted that God was going to provide a sacrifice. He knew God’s character. He knew that God was good, and that no matter what happened, God’s will was better for him than his own. He trusted that God was going to protect his son, and of course, God did.
Now here I stand in Abraham’s place with my family’s health and their “need” of me laid out on the altar with a knife raised in my hands. Sorry for the creepy imagery, but its where I am. I am standing here with my knife raised, trusting that God is going to protect them. Trusting that no matter how loud the enemy screams my name telling me that God will fail I know that my God will prevail.
More things I know to be true:
I know the enemy won’t beat me. I know the nightmares will stop and God will give me peace. I know I will be restored, and my focus restored. I know my family will be protected. I know God is on my side. I know He loves me, and most importantly, I know that He is good.
