During my run last night I came face to face with something ugly. My doubt.
My natural frame of reference is more negative than I care to admit. I can be all Pollyanna to those around me, slightly more cynical to those closest to me and downright doom and gloom to myself.
As I ran, I let life slough off me. The last few weeks have been rough. My husband’s been out of town, I had terrible crazy-woman PMS, I got sick, ate fast food, drank lots of coffee, worked out minimally and almost polished off a pound of M&Ms. Side note: I’m buying the almond kind next time so I get something healthy out of the deal.
I’ve fallen down the staircase of I’ll just stop writing this blog because I’ll never get published because I don’t have time to pursue anything but sick/needy/sloppy kids.
In the midst of playoffs, performances, projects, parties, ceremonies and graduations I realized we were peaking and I was having trouble enjoying this normal chaos that is May. I mean peaking as in my middle children are almost nine—halfway to being on their own. The peak of child raising. **sniff sniff**
So I shoved writing aside and threw myself into this end of the season celebrate until you drop hoopla. Today I decided enough is enough and went for a run.
That’s when God asked Lisa, do you believe I’m good?
Yes, Lord, of course, begged to come out because I was once a fourth grade Sunday school scholar.
But I knew what He meant. He meant Lisa, do you believe I’m good to you? Do you believe I love you with the extravagant love you struggle to show your loved ones today?
All I could choke out between sobs was
And then the fourth grade me quickly added, Lord, forgive my unbelief.
When God moved mountains for me to receive the cancer treatment I needed, I believed.
When God miraculously spared me from harsh chemo, I believed.
When God lined up lots of little ducks in a row so we could move, I believed.
When God began using my story to encourage others to seek Him, I believed.
When God showered me with favor at different times in my life at various jobs, I believed.
When God gave me perfectly healthy babies, I believed.
When God gave me a fairy tale wedding day, I believed.
But today when I was late to the dentist and my son needed more work than we thought, I doubted.
When my preschooler never took a breath today and I couldn’t either, I doubted.
When the miracle cancer treatment stretches us more financially than is comfortable, I doubt.
When the house I once thought was perfect seems to close in around me in all it’s disorganized cluttered glory, I doubt.
When it looks like I’ll be working instead of writing when school starts in the fall, I doubt.
When the fun commitments of a normal life begin to feel like drudgery, I doubt.
I’m not proud. I am full of doubt.
I am in desperate need of extraordinary holy to invade ordinary routine. I am crying out for my Father’s holy fire to replace motherhood burnout.
As I confessed every area of doubt with the thud of feet to pavement, freedom came. I realized something: It’s easier to believe the best than think the worst. Truth overcomes doubt every time.
I realize I have issues. I need constant validation from Jesus about who I am in Him. I’m ridiculously needy. But today I believe the best.
Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance. 1 Corinthians 12:7