Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: Walk (07/20/06)
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TITLE: The Waiting | Previous Challenge Entry
By Juanima Hiatt
07/23/06 -
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I remember a time years ago when I was a spiritual warrior. If you’ve ever heard the term “holy roller”, that was me. Oh, I was on fire. But then... I don’t know what happened. I can’t remember. Somewhere along the road I changed. I transformed from a faith so solid, so brave, so sure... to a weak faith in which I tremble because I’m not sure whether or not God will be there for me. I’m not sure if I can trust Him. I’m not sure if He’ll fulfill His promises. What kind of faith is that?
And yet He’s taken me on this journey. Despite my doubt in Him, I see evidence of Him in my life. Or maybe that’s my “faith like a mustard seed”... just believing He’s there somewhere. But I can’t feel Him. I haven’t felt Him for a long time. I have had nights of endless tears with my face to the floor begging for Him to touch me. Begging for Him to speak to me. The tears fall into empty silence. I hear nothing.
For three years now I have been a prisoner to my past, and my family has suffered with me. I have two little girls who live in uncertainty, wondering if their Mama will be okay. Wondering why their Mama cries. Why she’s upset all the time. And behind closed doors, their Mama lies on the bed weeping with clenched fists wondering when the pain will end. Wondering when God’s loving hand will sweep over her house and bring peace once more. Wondering when she will feel joy again. When she will laugh. When she will live. When I will live.
I am not walking. I am crawling. I am tired. I am weak. But isn’t that when God wants us most? When we have finally grasped in our weary state that we are insufficient by our own efforts? That we cannot walk alone and thrive? That we need Him?
Three years ago I gave birth to a 9 lb. 14 oz. baby girl. The delivery was traumatic, and they tell me it was that trauma that triggered the nightmare I live in now. Reliving the 12 years of abuse that started when I was just seven. The age my oldest daughter is now. Every day I am reminded of the reality of my past. Pain I thought I was over long ago, and now they call it Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Never sleeping because the bad guys come to me every night in my dreams. Flashbacks of horrible violence. Memories and intrusive thoughts when I’m awake. Anxiety.... I want this to end.
I thought I’d left it all behind. When I was 19 I rededicated my life to Christ, went to Bible College and grew spiritually. God really used me there. God used me! And though I struggled, I felt I had purpose. Now, I struggle just to see the light of tomorrow. God, what happened? Why now? I know in my heart there’s a reason. I know deep in my heart You must be saying, “Just hold on, little one. Hold on.” So many times I don’t feel like I can. Don’t feel....
There’s a woman who has a ministry dedicated to women in prison. A dear friend of mine recently started helping her, but she needs more help and there are eyes on me for possibility. What possibilities? Oh...but then for the briefest moment I remember a day years ago when I lifted the chin of a grieving girl who had just spoken about her abuse for the first time. I told her God would bring healing to her broken heart and then I held her in my arms as she wept. And now I wonder... will God give me that strength again? Will I someday be able to stand tall and smile the grace of God at those with shattered hopes and dreams and tell them with all certainty and conviction that God has a purpose for their life and that they will be healed?
Wow. Just writing that made me sit a little taller. Maybe God is listening....
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