The sun is slowly welcoming me with its orange glow illuminating the silhouette of an old clipper ship. The splendor of these glorious moments is not lost on me. I still find it all so awe-inspiring. On this March morning, I’m running in wide-eyed wonder and I’m sure the runners passing me think I’m a rookie who doesn’t know how to find her ‘zone.’ You see, this is my first run along the bay in San Francisco and I’m in heaven soaking up the sights, smells, and sounds along an unfamiliar route. It’s 48 degrees and I’m giddy to be running outside – clad in a t-shirt – in the middle of winter. I look to my right and recognize a landmark I’d only seen in history books: Alcatraz Island. The filmstrip of my mind freeze-frames on a suffering scene from an old black and white movie and this is where my thoughts start spooling.
Glorious splendor
There is so much misery and sadness around me – socially, politically, and relationally. It’s so easy to see and experience all the suffering and cry out, “Where are You in all of this? You are omnipotent. Why do you let this happen?” But as my heart has softened and my eyes have opened this past year, I see God’s role in my life much differently. One thing I believe is that God isn’t in my life to take away all the bad, to only help me see and experience the good. I now believe that it is in our darkest moments that the light of God shines the most brightly. It’s when I’m lying flat on my back. It’s that moment I hope to look up and see Him above me with outstretched hands calling for His child to have faith.
I believe. Please help my unbelief.
I want to have faith that I will accept certain things, whether good or bad, as His will. I want to believe that I may never know God’s divine plan but that there is one and it’s spectacular. I want to believe that the unexplainable events and interactions of today will one day be knit together to create something so massive and intricate that no mortal could have ever envisioned or imagined the outcome. In the words of CS Lewis, I want to believe that “Someday, everything sad will come untrue.”
I believe. Please help my unbelief.
Running under the restaurant awnings in Ghirardelli Square, I find myself praying for forgiveness, for protection, and for my undeserved grace. Right here, right now I am thankful for sunrises, new coworkers, a kind boss, amazing children, and chocolate. But just as quickly, my heart aches for those who are suffering. I pray for my brother who juggles two jobs and struggles with his health – feeling shackled and desperate at every turn. I think about Dalton, a 16-year old friend fighting adrenal cancer while still getting to his physics classes on time and his parents who haven’t slept for months consumed with worry. My mind rewinds back a year to the image of my neighbor Galina and her debilitating grief after losing her son to suicide. Too numerous to count, I pray for those who’ve lost their jobs, lost their children, lost their way and lost their will. God, how I wish suffering wasn’t so real.
I believe. Please help my unbelief.
But it takes only a few more cross-streets before my mind’s eye focuses on Angie. It was a series of events, which at one point in my life I would have chalked up to serendipity, that reunited me with Angie after 15 years. In early February, I sat with my old friend for two hours at the bar at Bonefish Grill. While people on either side of us regaled about their past and present triumphs, Angie and I huddled close together for comfort as she told me about her daughter KayLeigh who was on her way to Princeton with a dance scholarship in hand and immeasurable ambition in her soul. That summer before heading off to college, KayLeigh was diagnosed with leukemia. Angie’s sweet little lamb died nine months later.
I believe. Please help my unbelief.
Staring at the liquor bottles lining the bar, I tried to focus. I wanted to help my friend find an answer – the ‘why’ she’s been asking. But I knew there was no answer. Before that night – before the Hound of Heaven tracked me down and opened my eyes to His grace – I would have angrily wrestled with this question. But today, I realize I will never know the ‘why.’ I had no answers to share with this broken, grieving mom, daughter, and wife who was trying so hard to be the brave soldier. So what did I do for two hours with no answers and no wisdom to share? I listened. I cried. I hugged. I smiled. I prayed silently. I prayed that Angie would experience some peace even if just for a few moments – a few hours a day, which might turn into weeks, which might turn into years.
I believe. Please help my unbelief.
I know so little about all this. I am still finding my own way. But what I do know is that in that moment, as we wiped away each other’s mascara-stained tears, God was with us. Protecting us and weeping with us. To anyone without faith, God’s grace may seem so fickle, so random, so fleeting. But to me, His grace in that moment was so palpable, and yet, so incredible. Today, I believe I know God and am blessed to have a relationship with Him. But He will always see my heart – feel my blame, my anger, and my weakened faith. And still, regardless of what I truly felt about Him and His plan for a beautiful ballerina named KayLeigh, I believe He will never leave me or forsake me. In my hardest moments and darkest days, I will be welcome to run to Him again and again and again.
I believe. Please help my unbelief.
Thank you Callie!