"Oh Lord my God, I cried out to You, and You healed me."
Psalm 30:2
Thanksgiving is a hard holiday for me. I am so
grateful for the sweet taste of pecan pie, the smell of cinnamon candles, and
the fairy tale ending of the Hallmark movie playing in the background while my
adopted mom cooks. I really disliked Hallmark movies freshman year. They were
too sentimental; too unreal. Yet, this year, they seem to have snuck their way
into my heart despite the fact that the plot is really predictable, and
everybody looks like a model. Despite all the predictability, the movies are
pure and happy. They always have a good ending. The holidays bring people
together instead of pulling them apart. Every character eventually finds a
sense of belonging, and they never go back to who they used to be but are
changed for the better.
I
have to admit that in this season the holidays are hard for me. I woke up this
morning wanting to be thankful for all the many people and blessings God has
given me. However, there was another part of me that still wanted other circumstances.
I did not feel thankful; I just knew I should be. God had brought me to a place
of close intimacy with Him this year. I had made new friends and gained an
adopted family, lived in my own little apartment for a month and a half, entered
my junior year of college, and had the privilege of hearing 30+ women share
their abortion journeys with me. There was a lot I could say “thank you” to God for when I went on my walk this morning.
I did thank the Lord on
my walk this morning; but, at the same time, I allowed myself to lament to God
about the many other parts of my life that I still don’t understand or that
still hurt. I told Him about wanting to belong.
I
think one of the most beautiful attributes of God, if not the best, is that God
knows me. He knows my heart. He knows my soul. He knows me. Not like how my
best friend knows me or even my biological family. He knows me so deeply
because He wove me in the womb. He knows everything about me because He made me
as I am. He gave me a passion for telling stories, drinking tea, and watching
BBC dramas. He even knows the number of hairs on my head and even the
spontaneous freckles that dot my nose now. Who would have thought that I would
develop freckles at twenty-one? It is a silly question perhaps to ask, but He
knew.
It is a precious truth that God knows you and me. Even when we do not feel it or that knowledge does not hit us as special on a particular day, that truth remains. I can say “thank you” to my God for that truth—for knowing me. I can also thank Him that I can lament as a believer. Lamenting is not hopeless. Lamenting is not despairing. It is a cry of the heart of a child to that of his or her Father. It is one of feeling and yet one of faith. To lament is the cry of the soul to its Creator that all is not as it should be and only He can make it right. Only He can heal where broken slits in the heart still remain. His Son’s sacrifice made that healing possible.
I am thankful for that.
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteEnjoyed this!
ReplyDelete