Disappointment engulfs my soul today. A perfectly laid out plan didn’t go the way I had expected. A direction I did not choose has been chosen for me.
And So, I wait. I wait for you now, Lord, and look for further guidance.
I wonder what to do with the waiting, the wondering, and the uncertainty. Where do we turn when we don’t know where to turn next?
A path and a detour
I’ve followed a path only to find there is a detour ahead.
It seems cruel when I seek you the hardest, and the outcome is the opposite of what I would like. It sounds tempting to “ask for forgiveness rather than permission” when this is the case. How can my plans be so different from yours and so well-meaning all at once? It feels nonsensical.
When our will and yours collide, we feel we are reduced to a pawn on a giant chessboard. The view of heaven and the holy become skewed by the endless black and white squares before us. “His plan is better than mine,” I speak rather rotely, wondering if these words are as thin as the air I say them into.
A prayer for the disappointed soul.
Feeling the disappointment
And though I am sad, I am thankful. Because you are a God that permits us to feel. You are not offended when I wrestle with your perfect will and try to convince you of my lacking one. I feel the visceral emotions of sadness and confusion as you gently whisper, “This too shall pass.”
I pose a question to my soul: Am I praying and seeking your answer, or am I wanting a nod of approval on my own?
Following you doesn’t come with a promise that our plans will work out just right. Pulling myself from my will only to settle deeply in the dissatisfaction of yours means that I obey when it doesn’t give me all the “feels.”
It’s messy business following after a God who doesn’t promise me all I could hope for in this life but tells me I must wait for the next.
Instead, you give us something far better on this Earth—yourself.
Lord, do your will.
Hearing a “not yet” or worse, a “no” and feeling the hurt is a rich reminder of how far I am from bending my will to where it utterly breaks before yours. Here, I find myself straining backward, wishing that “plan A” would’ve worked out and perhaps you got it wrong this time.
The what-ifs will choke us lest we bow down in sincerity at the goodness of your magnificent mosaic. We whisper requests in quiet moments, and you hold them tightly and remember long, although the answer may be no. Every sorrow is recorded as you bow low to the brokenhearted, even when that sorrow is handed down from above.
Lifting hands high, we posture as though we are not clutching those we hold most dear and ask timidly for you to do as you please. However, when the secret desire of our heart doesn’t align with your plan, we snatch our hands back, resembling a thief more than a protector of our people.
If I proclaim, “Lord, do your will,” but recoil when your plan is unveiled, I insist that my truth is better and my mercy exceeds yours.
Oh Lord, I become like a petulant child in your presence. I demand you tell me all you know even though I could not handle half of it.
The beauty comes when you pat my head and say, “Not now, child, not now.” You know my inferiority, and remember, I am but dust. You are gracious, merciful, and capable of the kind of forgiveness I am not.
A prayer for the disappointed soul—Finding your ever-present peace
It is in your lap I crawl when my tirade is complete, and your arms are where I find the solace I long for.
Though I may feel forgotten and unheard, I know that my feelings are just that. Feelings—blowing and bustling, coming and going as sure as the seasons, and staying not nearly as long.
In contrast, you are forever—your truth, grace, and mercy all the same. Your thoughts are better, and your plans are far greater than mine.
“Thy will be done,” exhaling three words, no longer rote but deeply believed. Drifting up into the atmosphere, they linger long enough to be multiplied with the praise of the saints and rise to meet you.
As always, friend, thank you for stopping by,
Click below for books on hope, healing, and hearing Jesus speak into your sorrow…
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The One Year Book of Hope, Large Print By Nancy Guthrie, This book is for anyone who has been hurt in life and would benefit from a hope-filled daily companion. Critically acclaimed author Nancy Guthrie offers insightful daily reflections based on the Word of God to comfort, encourage, and uplift those who are feeling the aches of life–whether it’s because of everyday disappointments or deep losses. Through a year’s worth of thoughtful entries, the reader will learn how much God longs to lift us up, carry us through in times of difficulty and uncertainty, and give us true, lasting joy. Each daily step draws you closer to a God who truly cares and the hopeful life he wants you to enjoy. Large Print Edition. |
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Hearing Jesus Speak into Your Sorrow By Nancy Guthrie * Sometimes the pain of loss seems unbearable. Jesus understands because he also wept—but he never lost hope. In this compassionate book, Guthrie takes a fresh look at 11 comments Jesus made to the brokenhearted to ease their grief. Guthrie’s personal reflections and heartfelt message will help you find clarity and comfort in your suffering. 208 pages, hardcover from Tyndale. |
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