Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego replied to him, “King Nebuchadnezzar, we do not need to defend ourselves before you in this matter. If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to deliver us from it, and He will deliver us from Your Majesty’s hand. But even if He does not, we want you to know, Your Majesty, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up." - Daniel 3:16-18
To borrow the words of Flyleaf, "sometimes life seems to quiet into paralyzing silence." There seems no answer to our pleas, no relief to the pain that has found its way into our existence. The tears seem to come more often than the smiles, and we repeat the word "why" as a soft mantra, even while we ignore the answer. It is in the midst of our pain that fronts fade, pretenses pass and masks melt. The truth of ourselves has nowhere left to hide as we reveal all our insecurities and deepest fears, we demonstrate where our strength may in fact come from.
Perhaps the reason we reject these moments the most is because of the stripping down process. In a world where we are raised to cover up everything from flaws of the skin to those of personality, so many of us are afraid of baring our soul to the world, let alone to ourselves. It is in these moments, that the most growth can happen though. We clear out the clutter in the room, piece by piece, decoration by decoration, until we can see the cracks in the walls and the stains on the carpet. It becomes evident what repair work needs to be done. Then the task falls on our shoulders to begin that work.
We can fear the storms in our life for the destructive power that they hold. However, they can only destroy those things which are not prepared for it - the flimsy shack, the unenforced windows, the toys left outside. We can also respect the storm for showing us what didn't really matter, what areas of our life need to be reinforced.
We can fear the trek in the desert for the loss it requires. We fear the things left behind, the things we think we need and the comfort we were used to. The beautiful thing about the desert is in fact the barren nature of it, in how beautiful it is despite its seeming lack. Silence is something we take for granted these days, because it is only when we are still and quiet that we are left alone with only ourselves and God. Perhaps some of us fear that one-on-one time.
I have lost. I have cast my pearls to swine. I have carried unnecessary burdens. I have stood fast in my faith despite the world telling me to do otherwise. I have cried. I have mourned. I have sat in the darkness of my heart and wondered where the light was to be found. I have looked in the mirror for a glimpse of the woman I know myself to be. And through the few years that God has given me to experience on this earth, I have come to understand that no matter what I go through and what the outcome is, God is still the Provider, the Healer, the Shepherd, the One Who sees me.
He has never given me a reason to believe that I am not in the palm of His hand, even when my plans are dashed and there is not a cent to my name. Either I trust Him or I don't.
I'm learning to be that little girl, willing to play out in the rain because I know my Father is nearby. I'm learning to be that little girl, singing happily with nothing but the clothes on my back because my Father is singing there with me. I'm learning to trust Him with a little more each day and to return to that carefree child when it comes to the nastiness of life. To know that no matter what happens or how it all turns out, that my Father's arms will always be there, and that truth will always remain.
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