I am so weary. I keep trusting and praising God trial after trial. "Lord, I don't know your plans, but I know you are good, and loving, and merciful...I know that through this difficult time, You will bring good to me and Your glory will shine." And everything just gets more and more difficult. When I think I couldn't adapt to a harder situation, it's gets harder and I can adapt or bleeping kill myself. Did you all know that children of parents who commit suicide are twice as likely to do the same? I'm beginning to feel like Tina Turner...Ike socks me in the mouth because he loves me.
I wonder about my faith. I mean, like anyone, I have those "why me, God?" events where I admit that I do not like what my Creator allows in His plan. But...right now...I don't even understand how I feel. Since I came to Christ as an adult, I have never been so unsure. How can I cry out to God day after day, night after night, only for things to just get worse and worse. And then, when things look like their getting better, and it feels like we've suddenly been blessed with something wonderful, it blows up like the flunking atom bomb. I don't know. I bet there's lots of people who have trusted God who have lost their homes, lost their kids, and died alone on the streets while their children were abused in foster care. Maybe that's just part of God's plan for me. How do I just keep praising Him for this?
We bought a business. I discovered my husband was having an affair. I forgave my husband. We're about twelve-hundred dollars away from losing our business.
And you know what? I deserve every single bad thing that ever happens to me. I can take every horrible thing that happens and trace it back to somewhere where I made a bad decision. I get the consequences I deserve. I didn't believe God worked that way, though. I didn't believe that God held my every offense against me and made sure that I paid sufficiently for it. I believed that was why Jesus came. Because I could never sufficiently pay for my sin. I don't know. I guess if I'm going to pay for everything I've ever done wrong, I'm going to lose everything and I'm going to die alone on the streets while my children are abused in foster care. And every good thing I've ever done will be forgotten. Because this isn't a scale, I can't just do good things to balance out what a horrible, wretched person I've been.
Deep down inside I still have hope that good will come from this. He hits me in the mouth because he loves me.
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