I know I need to write a blog post.
I would say I even want to write a blog post.
But time and energy are two things that cannot seem to get in the same room at the same time right now.
I have thoughts – whirling in my mind – thoughts about God and His righteousness and His goodness and His sovereign rule. I have thoughts about grief and darkness and what it looks like to care for people in the middle of this mess of life. I have thoughts about doubt and unbelief. I have thoughts about the Word of God; the sword of the Spirit that is an anchor to the soul when the waves wash over you with a force you never dreamed.
And I will have these moments when my soul is flooded with faith and my heart is filled with urgency and words, but this will happen while I am following a two-and-a-half year old around Chuck E Cheese, or while I’m in a meeting with a co-worker, or on the couch weeping with a friend.
When I carve away the time to sit here at my computer the thoughts seem to flee. All the words dissolve in my head, detaching and floating apart; a sea of meaningless black and white lines as untethered to one another as I feel.
So what am I left with? Should I write the things that I felt in those faithful moments? Should I blog about the truths that have anchored my soul, but in this moment seem – terrifyingly – too much like fairy tales?
Is it authentic to tell you truths while all the while experiencing hidden doubts in my heart?
And what is the alternative? To tell you how I feel in this moment, as if that is authenticity? How can it be authentic? I am a human being who believes in things beyond my feelings. If I tell you I doubt the promises of God just because I feel that way, what is that, but a lie? Because I don’t. In the deepest places of soul life I am banking on them with all that I am. Otherwise I would not draw breath.
So telling you how I feel is inauthentic because it is not representative of who I am. But feigning passion about the truth feels inauthentic because when I write I long for my words to be an overflow of worship, and not simply cold confidence.
The good news is – authenticity is not my god.
God is my God.
And He does not ebb and flow with my feelings. He doesn’t change between the moments of faith and the moments of dry and barren nothingness or the raging fires of doubt.
And writing about Him will never be a lie. It will never be inauthentic.
Faith is standing on the rock of His Word.
Faith is not merely a feeling, but a ‘banking’– a placing of your hope in Him.
I am standing on that rock. By His grace – that’s an authentic statement.
Some days I feel confident and sure and the strength of the stone beneath my feet is felt by every part of me.
Some days I look down and all I can see under my feet is a great chasm. Panic floods my veins as I peer downwards, desperate to see the rock that is carrying all my weight. I cannot see it. I stomp my feet, but they are numb. They feel nothing. My heart trembles. On these days I take a deep breath and I trust that – despite what I feel – the Rock is still there – sure and true.
What is faith if not a trusting that your senses are not the final authority on reality? My security is not dependent on my sense of the Rock, but the steadiness of the Rock itself.
And, oh – my friends – this Rock is steady. His Word is sure. His promises true. And nothing can separate me from the love of God – not even fleeting emotions.