One of the hardest things I struggle with is the constant battle between the child of God and the human self. Between good and bad. Between my heart and my soul. This battle takes many forms.
Sometimes, grieving me wanting to yell at God: “Why did You take him? What did I do? What did he do? Marcus put his life back together and now he’s dead because of it. We got back together and You took him away!”
Other times, it’s me fighting the desire to cope in an unhealthy way. To run to alcohol, food, another man’s arms in a physically intimate way… Things that might provide some short-term relief but the hurt will still be there just the same in the morning.
When I’m hurting like this, I avoid my devotionals, don’t want to pray. Maybe my thoughts wander to questioning if God could love me even if I do something He blatantly doesn’t approve of me doing. My self-esteem is already shot, was before Marcus’s death, but now it feels like I’ve been put on display and all my flaws are visible to the world and everyone is looking down their nose at me, watching my every move to see how I handle my grief.
I. Am. Human. and God knows this. Even if I do slip up, He still loves me. Unconditionally. God loves us all unconditionally. And when I catch myself in these negative moments, I try to turn them around.
Maybe it’s faithful me saying, “God’s got this. He brought me to it, He will bring me through it. He knows what my future holds. It is well with my soul…”
Perhaps I get involved in something new. That’s how I got into yoga. For me, $5/session is so incredibly worth it to go spend an hour loving myself and taking care of my body. I’d spend more than that going out to eat or splurging on junk food.
The struggle is real. The grief hurts. And it manifests in uncomfortable ways. But God cares, and He loves me.