Disappointed. Frustrated. Unsettled. These are the feelings that have weighed heavily on me over the past six months.
It’s been a season of sitting in the tension of disappointment that some things are just not how I hoped they would be. A season of feeling deeply the things that don’t feel good – frustration, fear, and hurt. So many goodbyes, changes, and hard lessons in obedience and laying things down without yet knowing what to pick up.
This is the kind of tension that is created when my reality begins to look very different than what I expected or hoped for. The disappointment resulting from unmet expectations – of people, of outcomes, of what I thought tomorrow would look like. When the relationship gets complicated, the person hurts you again, or the friend gets terrible news. When you’re waiting for that new chapter or the chapter that you wanted to go on forever comes to an end. It strains every part of you and doesn’t feel good at all.
I have buckled under the weight of it all many times in the past few months, becoming discouraged and exhausted from chasing after peace, but coming up empty handed again and again. I realized that I felt more peace in the days after my breast cancer diagnosis than I’ve felt this year. How is that even possible? How could that sense of peace have been so present in my heart then, when I’d just heard some of the most unexpected news of my life? Because I was in a place of surrender. I didn’t try to take control of cancer. I made a decision to give it all over to God, stayed close to him and that was it. But with other things in my life, it’s so easy for me to slip back into believing that I have a lot more control. I overanalyze and think that maybe if I would’ve done this instead or worded that differently that I may have gotten a different result. I can’t have peace because I’m convinced that things should have gone differently.
Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior. The Sovereign Lord is my strength; he makes my feet like the feet of a deer, he enables me to tread on the heights.
Habakuk 3:17-19
These words were what I held onto in those early days. It was simple. Cancer was going to be similar – a season of suffering and loss. And yet I was was resolved to rejoice anyway. I knew that I had to choose to believe what I knew to be true about God, that he is in control of all things. I had to trust that cancer was a part of his plan for me, because I believe that nothing is out of his control. He allowed it for a reason and his plan is always working for my good, even if I can’t see it. Although it surprised me, it did not surprise him. It was going to be ok. And here is what I still know today. It’s going to be ok. All of it – the hurt, the loss, the disappointment, the unknown, the change – because God is working in ALL of it.
So this is what I have decided I will not do as I sit in the tension. I will not continue to fix my eyes on my circumstances. When the hurtful words or disappointments start to replay over and over in my mind, I will silence them. I will not try to numb or distract myself from the tension by being busy with a mile-long to-do list or scrolling mindlessly through social media. I will not keep begging for peace as I’m doing nothing but allowing myself to get tossed about by the waves of my emotions.
And here is what I have decided I will do. I will fix my mind on Christ. I will do the hard work of being intentional to keep my mind focused on the truth rather than these emotions that I’m feeling. I will make changes in where I am spending my time, my thoughts, and my daily routines so that I can get back to that place of surrender. I’ll find the people who will allow me to be honest and vulnerable and open up about my struggles. I will pay more attention to how my habits make me feel. Are the things I’m spending my time on making me spiral even further downward and are there other things that I could be doing that would help draw me closer to God and up out of the sea of emotions? And I will remind myself daily of this promise:
You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in you.
Isaiah 26:3
My circumstances haven’t changed. The tension is still here. I’m still being stretched and it’s still uncomfortable. But I’m done with being panicked and exhausted from trying to fight my way out of it. I’m sitting in the tension, but I’m also making space for peace in the midst of it. There is nothing that needs to be fixed or figured out by me. God is not asking for my suggestions, he’s asking for my surrender. To hope through the heaviness and to sing in the valley, not just when I reach the mountain top.