I hit bottom this week. Not quite rock bottom, but bottom. Thursday I missed my Bible time, and it was all downhill from there. If you’ve had it, then I don’t need to explain it. Let’s just say it was ugly. I was ugly. Friday morning I sat down with my Bible, and I didn’t want to talk to Him. I felt like I’d been pouring out into this relationship, doing everything I could to love Him (even though I still kept messing up), and for what? But I prayed anyway…because I’ve been doing this long enough to know that if you want answers you have to do it even when you don’t feel like it. And I cried. And then I opened the book to where I’d left off in Mark 8 and read about Jesus having compassion on the multitudes. Something started happening in my heart, but it didn’t fully evolve until I was in the shower listening to my music. Song after song after song, the central theme was that God loves me. Just when I thought He was done, He’d turn around and show me some other way He loves me. ALL DAY.
I got to mid-afternoon and found a quiet place and cried again. Not with frustration this time, but with gratitude and joy. When we show up and love Him, He shows up and loves us. Although technically He was the One that loved first. Sometimes I forget that He’s really there. Sometimes it feels like I’m just going through ritualistic motions for no actual person, but every time I falter, he supports me and lets me know that He knows exactly where I am, and that I don’t need to doubt His presence or His love. I don’t need to doubt His awareness of my needs.