I found this in my drafts as a Part 2 to this post from 2020. This was also written in 2020 while we were looking for our first home, and, wouldn’t you know it, it feels like a good day to post Part 2 to a post about how God Loves Us no matter what we feel. Our feelings are not failures. I thought maybe someone out there may need this reminder, too?

---

The tears came fast and wouldn’t stop. Where are these tears coming from? I  tried to sift through all the thoughts as they came, attempting to label what might be conviction or shame or fear or grief. 

From upfront, our Pastor preached on Matthew 8:18-22. That passage is titled in most Bibles something like “The Cost of Following Jesus” and it’s where Jesus famously says, “foxes have dens to live in, and birds have nests, but the son of man has no place even to lay his head.” He spoke of it being difficult in the West to really understand the cost of discipleship, with so many distractions and so few unavoidable demands. He spoke of his friend who remained in the Middle East translating the Bible despite being specifically hunted by religious leaders.

I failed my test. Memories of my anxious state of being while living in “closed” country in the East surfaced as my tears streamed faster. And now that I’m back in America, I’m obsessing over finding a (nice) place to lay our heads. Just that morning we’d driven by a few houses up for sale. 

Double fail, my thoughts chanted at me, the cost of discipleship is out of your reach, it’s apparently more than you can pay.

I tried to tell myself some Truth – that it’s not my faith that counts but Jesus’ faith on my behalf. That, yes, the cost is high but I know I have no other choice — to whom would I go? I know I have to follow Jesus deep in my bones — but do I believe that with bitterness or hope? The tears wouldn’t stop. I practically ran out of church as soon as it was over to wait in the car while Aubrey gathered the kids. We drove home and I spent much of the day in bed.

***

“Emotional,” was my response to my friend’s inquiry of my Sunday. She reminded me that the so-called heroes of the faith were far from perfect. This is the same friend, by the way, who reminded me that we returned to the States with 6 suitcases and asks me to look around at the furnished, rent-free apartment full of everything we need when I start worrying about money. God provided astonishingly well through our sudden transition. He’ll provide again.

Next morning, coffee in hand, I thought more about what she’d said about the “heroes” in the Bible who obeyed God at great risk or sacrifice. We’re not told a lot about most of their inner processes.

I wondered if Rahab’s stomach was in knots while she hid the spies.

I wondered if Abraham’s heart and feet were heavy and trembling as he climbed the mountain with the son he loved so dearly. 

We are told that Esther asked a whole community of believers to fast and pray as she prepared to go before the King. If she hadn’t been fasting, would she have had an appetite or the ability to keep food down?

We also know that Jonah went through a whole hot mess of a thing – and it still ended with him dramatically wishing for death (gosh, he’s so relatable, yes?).

If I’m not mistaken, the person we’re told the most about His emotional state is the only true Hero in the Bible.  “My soul is crushed with grief to the point of death,” Jesus said to his friends, who couldn’t “keep watch,” being so tired with grief. The Son of God went away to a quiet place, fell to the ground, and the Bible says his soul was in anguish. Those are some strong feelings, y’all. 

How I felt when I was in a hard spot does not disqualify me and it doesn’t mean I failed.

How I feel now — wanting a stable place to live and rest — also doesn’t disqualify me and doesn’t mean I’m failing. Desire and longing are part of being human, made in the image of God. Letting longing turn into obsession is less than I am called to — He reminds me of that as I walk with Him.

God loves us no matter how we feel, no matter what we want.

I’m beginning to wonder if some of the tears came from grief. Some of that anxiety was in response to things completely out of my control, but some of it was exacerbated by the devastation of the crows and locusts of perfectionism. I grieve that I was imprisoned to fear and anxiety in that season.

And as I look at what I lost while imprisoned, it reminds me not to step back into that cell now. I don’t have to obsess over answering every question mark in our lives right now. I can choose to live a different way.

Can I pause here, because shame can be such a tricksy beast, and say that there’s a big perspective shift from what I was hearing that day (you shouldn’t be obsessing over this, you are a bad disciple) and what the Spirit of Freedom offers (I love you no matter what, and I’m here to help you choose another way)? How we talk to ourselves matters greatly.

I am really grateful for the tears that day. I don’t know if they started this way, but now they are a reminder to me of all the chains that Jesus fought to free me of, while I was struggling in my circumstances. The tears are a reminder of what I lost, how much He loves me, and how I don’t want to go back. I am free, I can choose to trust.

And being free and trusting doesn’t mean I won’t still have feelings of fear or impatience or questions and desires. But it means I can be afraid and walk with Jesus.

We can be completely terrified and obey anyway.

We can imagine the kind of kitchen we’d like and acknowledge that Jesus is better than any kitchen.

Jesus really hoped there was a way other than the Cross and He cried and pleaded to that end AND He wanted His Father’s will to be done most.

Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things well be added to you . . . your Heavenly Father knows what you need . . . He cares so wonderfully for the wildflowers — how much more will He care for you?