Hit

Joy came in the morning as per usual. It came after quiet time. Prayer is so powerful. I became so joyous and full and excited. It carried several hours into the day; I blew through my studying time (although how much I actually accomplished is still laughable. Material just doesn’t stick in my head). By the time Julian made his way over, I had already studied three hours.

My worship playlist plays on the mini bose for a total of five hours and I’m happily drumming along to the songs. Joy is still there. Joy is there and I am amazed and I feel on fire. I am victorious as He told me in prayer. I start to rejoice over the scars I have accumulated over the time I’ve been a Christian. Wounds and mends I want to show the world; “This is how I was hurt and this is how Jesus healed me.”

It hits around 2pm, when my mind becomes tired from doing so many practice problems. It hits and I panic; I flip open my bible and start reading Isaiah. Isaiah 1:5-6 hits me hard and the feeling goes away.

It hits again later. I read Isaiah 2. It doesn’t work as well as the first time; I give up on studying. My head goes into my hands; I think Elijah thinks I am frustrated at studying but I just need a proper face plant to shake the feeling off.

When the two of them leave [I don’t want them to leave; I don’t want to be alone] the sun has already set and with the light goes my steadfast resolution to remain strong. Every time the night comes, that’s when I start failing.

In my most heartbroken times, I do draw close to the Lord, but I don’t think it’s necessarily for comfort. It’s in frustration, questioning, doubt, bitterness. I beat my fists on His chest and cry. “How do you deal with the pain, though?” I ask Him. Yes, there is hope, there is joy, there is growth, and there is healing in Jesus Christ. But, even healing hurts. I know it will pass, I know it will pass, I know it will pass and I will come out better. I know You will restore me. But, until then, how do I deal with the pain? Just how do I deal with it? How?

I hit six hours of studying today (my unconvincing earthly goal of the day; I’m surprised I even accomplished it) after Matt texts me asking if he can come over to study. I did it. I did it. I feel slightly victorious still.

—

I don’t handle being alone very well anymore. I want to run crying to someone. I want them to hug me and comfort me. I want Vivian here. I want Tiffany here. I want to be able to go to the boys apartment and bawl and have them take care of me. I want to hug Enoch out of nowhere; I want to cry to him like Vivian says she does. But still, there is a part of me that comes up with reasons not to go, a part of me that insists that it’s not right to go to them for help, a part of me that arrogantly thinks I can do this on my own.

I want Jesus to hold my hand again.

—

I’m determined to be obedient. I’m determined to be hurt. I’m determined to please the Lord. I’m going to grow. He’s going to grow me. He will restore me.

I don’t think I’m okay. But, I will be.

—

I’m never going to forget that God is good.