Me: Do you hear me? Do you really hear me, and care? My problems are nothing, why would you care?
God: Because you're my daughter. Would your dad care?
Me: Yes
God: Then why wouldn't I? I care far more then your dad ever could.
I had this conversation with God during worship the other night. It was the most clear talk we have ever had, and my confidence in hearing his words is building every day.
An hour before this, we had been served dinner. It was chicken noodle soup. I am vegetarian (and lactose-intolerant). I went without dinner that night, something I have been getting used to. It crushed my spirit and was the straw that broken the camels back… or the issue that finally broke me down.
It's easy to think that life on the race will be awesome, filled with fun,laughter, and a few tough times now and then. But life on the race is hard from the beginning. I've been having major identity issues this month, and have had a tough time being myself here, or even knowing who I am. That's a blog for another time, but the point is that things break you down, and it's ridiculously important to remember to turn to God.
Of course I need to take my own advice. Yesterday, we did street ministry and spent a few hours at the mall using the internet. I took the opportunity to have the worlds best veggie burrito and a fresh tropical fruit smoothie for lunch. I spent time talking to my parents, emailing my best friend, and checking up on my favourite lifestyle blogs. I was flying high, and was happy to go home. It was spaghetti night… my favourite because it's the only vegetarian dinner, and there are usually leftovers I can eat for a couple days. We get home, dinner is served, and as I grab a plate I notice something strange. It looks like there are cut up hotdogs in the spaghetti. My heart sinks, and I go to the kitchen to ask if they put a plate aside without meat. Nope, they forgot.
In my mind, they forgot me, they didn't care about me enough to remember. I was going without dinner once again. And it sucked. My mind also jumped to the thought that God forgot me, and that He doesn't care if I don't eat or if I'm feeling alone. I climbed up on the prayer wall (old concrete water tank with a sketchy wooden ladder) and I wept. I cried in anger, and sadness, and frustration. It wasn't just about the spaghetti… it was about feeling let down and lost. Hadn't He just told me that He heard my cries and was taking care of me? Then why was this same thing happening again, why were the feelings still there?
Over the course of an hour up on wall, I had a long one-sided conversation with God. I talked, and he listened. Through enough talking I circled back and answered my own frustrations.
Just because God loves me and takes care of me, doesn't mean I won't be left out or forgotten by others. I need to remember those actions are not orchestrated by God. Just the opposite. It should be Him I run too for comfort, just as I run to my dad for comfort. A hard concept to grasp at times, but one I won't forget any time soon.
Along with that is something we were taught at Launch. Forgiveness. We were taught to forgive people for things they don't need forgiveness for. So if someone does something that offends, or bothers you, even if it is not wrong, you should forgive them. It's not for them…. it's for you. If I didn't forgive the cooking team for not remembering or considering me that night, it would cause resentment and bitterness in me, feelings that do not come from a loving heart.
So I forgave the cooking team for not considering me. For making me feel forgotten and left out. Forgiving them did nothing for them, they have no idea any of that even went down. But like sugar on a grapefruit, it took the bitterness off my heart.
God loves you, he hears you, even when things totally suck. Turn to him. Forgive those that don't even need your forgiveness. Operate out of love.
I also picked up some vegetarian ramen noodle cups…. future dinner crisis averted.
