Emma, you might want to pick up the Bible more. Maybe read outside the Psalms.
It’s okay for Him to challenge me on a couple of areas.
Talk to me. What’s with the shoe stockpile?
However. There’s a limit – a point where God needs to cut me some slack and stop interfering.
Why does He keep prodding the same old wounds? The soft flesh that splits and bleeds at the touch?
Why do I have to go beyond my comfort zones?
Why can’t God just let me be?
Look, It’s not that I’m not grateful. There have been times when I needed Him. In the past.
You’re dying of anorexia.
Crisis points, when He took charge and told me what to do.
I love you, but I will not leave you this way.
But here’s the thing God: those times are gone. Seriously: No more crisis.
Not to be rude, but I’m sure you’ve got plenty of other jobs to be getting on with. Show’s over. Thanksverymuchcouldn’thave doneitwithout youthere’sthedoorhaveabiscuitfortheroadandlistenI’llcallyouifIgetstuck. Click.
And then, God safely on the fringes, I get to claim back my house and my life.
So what does it look like: the world that I manage? Well, let’s take a quick tour.
With the broken bowels and the screwed-up stomach and the embarrassment and the sickness and the guilt. Don’t face it and don’t think about it. Lock the door and keep God out. You can handle this alone: Don’t do too much, don’t leave the house, don’t travel or stay with strangers.
Don’t and don’t and don’t and you’ll be fine.
Fertility and womanhood and intimacy and thefactyoumightnotbeabletohaveababyandisityourownfault. The longing and the anger and the sadness and the guilt that chokes you as you swallow. The hard shell that stops you connecting: and stops you being hurt. This is private God; you’re never coming in. You’ll never see me naked.
The living room.
Sorry, but it’s appointment only. Take off your shoes and don’t stay too long. Don’t disrupt my routine. Get off the carpet. No fingers or sticky marks. Don’t share and don’t ask too much.
Some big battles fought in here, let me tell you. It’s one place I let him in – at least, for a time. He moved me from eating nothing and coming close to death, to just being seriously underweight. Then, I dragged my heels all the way from underweight to slim. But enough is enough. Job done Lord – and there’s the door.
To my bedroom. To my bathroom. To my kitchen. To my basement. The places even I don’t know.
This far Lord – and then no further. No more questions.
But He won’t be silenced.
How about facing up to the scariness of not having children? How about being curvy instead of slim?
How about becoming the woman you were made to be – not the one you think you are?
How about sharing your home and your life with other people?
How would you feel about giving me total control?
Not just your body. Not just your mind. Your heart.
All the areas you want to handle by yourself. All the rooms in the house.
Will you trust me now? Will you let me be your Lord?