Down in the valley

One of those self-defeating things Christians sometimes fall into is the pressure, mostly perceived in error, to be always up, always fantastic!  Perish the thought that other people, especially other Christians, would know that, sometimes, we're about as far from fantastic! as one human could possibly go.  And when you're down, does it help, do you feel better, when someone says, "Smile!  It could be worse!"  No, it doesn't help me, and I don't feel better.  Ticked off, more likely.

The folks behind Compassion's blog have invited us to participate in a contest by blogging about one of our "peaks" or "valleys."  I don't care about winning the contest; I just want to write about a recent time in the "valley," in the hope that someone else who may be there, now, will find some encouragement.

At the beginning of August, I fell into a valley so deep that I could hardly see the sun, for about two weeks.  I've written, before, about the cause, but here is what my visit to the valley was like.

On or about August 1, my incredible niece got the word that she probably had thyroid cancer.  We had known of the possibility for a couple of weeks, but I was so sure that she might just have a different thyroid problem that I was not prepared for cancer.  It was a Saturday, when we heard.

Bruce and I went to church the next morning.  We went to our usual place, Bruce sat down, and I went to check in as an usher and communion server.  I made it to the top of the aisle, where I encountered our executive pastor, Roger Blumenthal.  "Hi, Vicki, how ya doin'?"

"Oh, okay," I muttered as I started to walk by.  Wait a minute!  Roger caught my hand and asked what was going on.  I told him, and there was no stopping the flow, for several minutes.  I was so angry at God for allowing Heather to have any kind of cancer, I don't care if it is typically one of the "lesser" types.  Both my sister and I are in our 60's, our mom is 91.  It wouldn't be the same shock if something bad showed up in any of us.  But Heather was off-limits!  Y'hear me?!  She's the only child of my only living sibling, and my mom's only grandchild.  No, she isn't actually a child, anymore, but that isn't relevant.

God bless Roger!  He listened and understood, all compassion, for the several minutes that we stood there.  When I'd run down, he wrapped his arms around me and prayed for me, for Heather, her mom and granny, and then I went on to check in. 

But the lid was off, and I couldn't turn off all the anger of my grief.  I know that's healthier than holding it, stuffing it down, trying to cover with smiles, but it meant that I simply could not sing songs of praise and worship.  I couldn't have sung anything, but "Blessed be your name" really did not cut it with me, that day.  Ordinarily, I love singing it.  I honestly had thought that "When the darkness closes in, Lord / Still I can say, 'Blessed be the name of the Lord!'"  I had thought--or hoped--I was that strong.

That morning I realized the truth:  The darkness had closed in, threatening someone I love very much, and I felt as if I'd been sucker-punched.

I railed at God for a week.  The second week, I was mostly depressed, but only because I was tired of railing.  The anger stayed near the surface.  In Bible study on a Wednesday night, talking with those at my table, I heard myself saying of God, "I'd like to throw something at Him!"

Here's what I know:  First, God was not turning a deaf ear; He simply had a different way of answering our prayers for Heather.  Second, He was neither upset, threatened nor offended by my anger.  He can handle it.  He's the God who is "like Jesus," full of compassion for His little ones...which means all of us.  We must not try to hide behind platitudes we don't mean, on the theory that "There are some things you just don't say to God!"  Say them, knowing that He already knows and understands.

Did I emerge from that valley stronger in faith than I was before?  Ask me when I face the next crisis for myself or someone I love.  I don't know that I'm any stronger, but maybe it will help if I just don't kid myself into thinking I'm stronger than I am.  I'm vulnerable; I can be shaken.  God knows that.  Maybe, one day, I'll grow enough to fully trust Him.

Comments

[Kirk Leavy]

"Maybe, one day, I'll grow enough to fully trust Him." Amen sister.

I, like you, want to have the kind of trust David possessed when he stood before Goliath and said; I've got God on my side, let's rock ! (I'm pretty sure David didn't say that but you get the idea.) That's trust.

Maybe, one day....

[Beverly]

Hi, Vicki,
I'm just getting around to reading all of this post. I love your honesty.

[Tim]

Really like this post Vicki. I especially like the reminder that God is not threatened nor offended by our anger.
Thank you for posting...and for taking part in our blog contest on blog.compassion.com

[Vicki Small]

My thanks to each of you for reading and understanding. I'm pretty sure that what really gave me the freedom to express my anger at God is that I'd already learned that He isn't put off by it. So I didn't have fear of Him mixed with the anger, for which I heartily thank Him!