beating rocks

dear rory,

sometimes I amaze myself...

I am really good at giving advice.

I mean, not to "toot my own horn", but

HONK HONK.

I always know how to handle situations...

unless it's my own.

***

yesterday Pastor talked about the Israelites.

as he recounted their repeated complaints, I felt myself almost squirming with contempt.

those idiots.

one minute, they're marching out of slavery towards a land that was promised to their forefathers by God Almighty. the next minute, they're watching God pound the waters of the Red Sea over the heads of one of the most powerful armies in the world. and the next minute...

they're thirsty.

hold the camels.

we had better turn around and offer ourselves as slaves in Egypt again. sure things weren't always easy there- our sons were being killed, we were worked almost to death under the boiling hot, desert sun, and our Pharaoh despised us.

but at least we weren't thirsty.

good thing God has more patience than I do. instead of striking them all down as I might have, God commanded Moses to strike a rock.

and what do you know? the God of miracles performed a miracle. out of the rock came water.

***

Sunday after church I had a long talk with a friend.

I found myself giving advice.

because I'm so good at that.

I was in the middle of saying something about not letting hard times make us bitter or angry-that God has a reason for the trials- when I stopped. I heard something quiet. I think it was God laughing.

***

you may remember that back in the winter, I was confined to a hospital room for several days and that I wasn't happy about it.

what you probably don't know is that while I was pouting in the hospital, God was preparing to show me that I too am an Israelite...

the hospital cart rolled down hallway after hallway. I watched people's faces as I rolled past. they were giving me a look that I had given many a time to strangers in hospital beds. the look of "I wonder if you are about to die." it's an easy look to accidentally give, but a harder one to receive. it made me want to make a monkey face at them. but I was tired, so I just stared blankly back, probably confirming their saddest imaginings.

the cart reached Destination MRI waiting room, and I said goodbye to my family and Laura. they smiled. I smiled.

but I was scared as anything. and I was angry. and bitter. where was God taking me? I just wanted to be comfortable again.

I looked up at the man wheeling me to the MRI room.

"don't be afraid," he said.

"there are a lot of friends praying for me," I answered. because that sounded like the right answer. he probably didn't want to hear my bitterness and anger.

but God saw my heart. and God struck a rock.

"I'll be praying for you too," the man said.

I licked up that drip of water and let it sink into my heart a second before being helped into the room and asked to lie down on a bench-like table.

"will my iPod be able to play during the scan?" I asked an older nurse.

"sure!" he said and smiled. he took my iPod and hooked it up to a device that would send the music through my protective mask during the hour and a half procedure.

I looked back at the cave I would be trapped in and took a deep breath. my claustrophobia isn't a huge fan of caves. especially hospital caves.

but then I was in. I heard the first few notes from my music come through...

followed by ceaseless hammering. I couldn't hear my music due to the hammering of the machine I was trapped in.

at first, I was fine. but forty minutes into it, I was feeling almost frantic. and I was feeling miserable for myself again. poor, poor me.

As the thunder rolls, I barely hear You whisper through the rain, "I am with you".

the hammering had stopped. "Praise You in this Storm" by Chris Tomlin filled my ears instead.

I will praise You in this storm. I will lift my head. You are who You are, no matter where I am.

Moses was beating at that rock. and water was gushing out.

And every tear I cry, You hold in Your hand. You've never left my side.

the hammering didn't start again...

And though my heart is torn, I will praise You in this storm.

... until the song had ended. then it continued without ceasing until I was taken out.

***

God was still gently laughing.

Pastor was still preaching.

and I was still an Israelite.

I watched the sun setting through my friend's eyelashes, as I heard the advice come from my own hypocritical lips.

you see, in the past few weeks, I have fallen into an angry and bitter net once again. I'm not sick this time. I'm struggling to forgive.

I have let hurt turn into bitterness. and I have let sadness turn into anger towards God.
do you know, I actually thought to myself for a moment that it would be rather nice not to have to worry about God and His commands? (please gasp here.) do you know, I actually thought to myself that maybe I would be better off without Him since He doesn't seem to care anyways? (please gasp louder here)

in other words...

"God, I am thirsty. why have You brought me here? it would be better for me to march back to Egypt and become a slave again."

*face palm*

***

my struggle continues even as I type these words. is it possible that I still feel angry?

I am an Israelite at heart.

I am wandering through the wilderness. the unknowns and hardships scare me. lately, it doesn't seem to matter that what I am leaving behind me isn't worth returning to. it doesn't seem to matter that what God is leading me towards is worth dying for.

lately, I just don't like being thirsty. but I also don't like being an Israelite.

because I know deep down that God is the only one who can gush those thirst-quenching waters at me. He can bring healing. from a lifeless rock. to a hurting heart.

***

looking at my friend, I suddenly stopped giving advice and asked her to pray for me.

"I'll be praying for you too," I promised.

as I hugged her, I realized...

we're all Israelites. we're making this journey towards the "promised land" together. it's rough. it's rocky. it stinks at times.

but we have left our slavery to sin behind us. we are marching, walking, sometimes inching our way on our bellies towards the end goal.

we fall. we thirst. we fail.

God catches. God quenches. God in His mercy forgives.

I lift my eyes unto the hills,
where does my help come from?
my help comes from the Lord,
the Maker of Heaven and earth.

please pray. I'm praying for you, my fellow marchers, as well.

love,
muffin