The God Who Sustains Me

we breathe in
and choke on the words
caught in our throats

we bleed out
and watch our energy drip away

there is more than enough
to inspire love in our dull minds
yet here we are
staring blankly at each other

we are stirring up a whirlwind

we are breaking apart

we are gasping for air

we are teetering on the edge

and the edge is calling

so grab my heart

and pull me back

wipe the wind from my eyes
and my tears from the air

catch me or i'll fly

and the beauty will be lost

the bridge will snap

we will fall asleep
and forget to dream

we are pretending
to not notice

so, notice

and i promise

i wont leave the ground

I can't even tell you how many times I have felt the ground sagging and splintering beneath me. My marriage has been rolling around on a frail foundation since day one.

Clearly, we were imperfect human beings drawn to one another and desperate to belong somewhere. We were filled with love for one another and beautiful ideas of what marriage would look like.

We talked endlessly.

We planned relentlessly.

We even prayed with a determined singleness of heart!

We were SO unprepared.

We had a very unique beginning.

Our story is dramatic and powerful. It is moving and crushing at the same time.

He was my best friend for 6 years. I loved him deeply... passionately... completely. But not romantically.

I witnessed every crush, every relationship... even his engagement (and the devastating ENDING of his engagement) to another woman. We worked at the same job in highschool. We worked in the same ministries. We prayed. We climbed mountains. We made promises.

He watched my heart weaving in and out of abusive relationships. He held me when I cried. He ate dinner at my house more often than not. He rode around in my very old lincoln towncar with me. He listened to my secrets and my fears. He stood like a faithful sentry at my bed in the ER. He slept on my floor the night after I tried to kill myself.

He became a part of my family. He was as familiar and as faithful as my own brothers.

But it wasn't until he was crushed, hopeless and broken that I truly saw him.

My heart still jumps at the memory of who he was.

I clearly remember the strangeness... even the sweetness... of being so drawn to him.

I had never felt so alive. I had never felt so full of adventure and strength.

And I had never had so much to lose.

Somehow we entered into marriage with the idea that ministry was immensely important. We jumped right in. He took a job as a youth pastor for a new church. We moved 30 minutes away from everyone we knew.

Let's throw in hormones. I was pregnant. Insanely pregnant.

The kind of pregnant that makes grown men shudder.

I yelled. I cried. I locked doors. I came up with arguments that still confuse me. I slept anywhere but in my own bed. I didn't want to be touched for almost my entire pregnancy.

I was home alone all day, in a very bad part of town, cleaning, doing laundry, watching tv and crying.

I didn't see my family... or my friends. I didn't even really talk on the phone.

All this time I felt so much pressure to "be" something. My husband was the youth pastor. He poured his life into these kids... and still worked his full time job.

I was drowning. And I had no way of voicing it.

When my daughter was born I crawled into my little cave, with my little baby, and slammed the door shut.

There were times when I attempted to be the "wife" I was supposed to be, but, mostly, I just wanted to be left alone.

The more time that passed, the more I lost control.

I was constantly aware of how invisible I was to my husband. I spent almost all of my time obsessing over my home or my daughter.

I became fearful.

At night I would check the locks and the windows 3-4 times; I would pray the same prayers over and over again - word for word.

I got up to check on Aravis throughout the night.

I don't think I slept through the night for an entire year.

I hated myself.

I hated my life.

I cried constantly.

And I felt guilty for it.

Weren't we doing what we were supposed to be doing? Wasn't this what EVERYONE ELSE was doing?

How come I was the only one hating it?

One day he came home and I said the most honest thing I have ever said.

"I hate you."

He didn't even seem surprised.

I told him to quit one of his jobs or I would leave him.

He did.

Mercifully, it was the ministry job.

And then we moved our little family into my parent's house for a year and a half with a clear calling from God...

No ministry for at least a year. Nothing. Our family was our ministry.

To be honest, we didn't even go to church for about 7 months. And even after that, it was maybe once a month.

It felt GOOD. Really, really good.

I am so aware that our friends thought we had lost our minds. They didn't approve. Why would they? Isn't "ministry" what it is all about?

We learned a new kind of ministry. One that filled us, instead of draining us. One that encouraged us, instead of ripping us apart. One that, biblically, made a whole lot of sense.

We lived life. We made every effort to love God and to love people. And we never, ever put a ministry, a church, or even another person before each other. We played with our daughter. We talked. We connected... probably for the first time in our marriage.

It was a very sweet season. It was a short season.

IN that season, God encouraged me. He built up a mountain of hope and love in me.

And when life came crashing to a halt again, I could hear his faithful whisper, "I WILL sustain you."

We are daily recovering from sin and flesh. We are almost always battling to stay married. We are confronted with truth and selfishness everyday.

There are times when my feet want to leave the ground; I am so wounded and afraid, that I just want to fall off the edge of our marriage and see what happens.

There are times when I am invisible, desperate, ignored.

There are times when I am left questioning who this man is. Who did I marry?

In THOSE times, I lean on the firm, clear whisper that has kept me from imploding.

"I WILL sustain you."

"I WILL sustain you."

There are also times when I remember why I married my husband.

There are times when I feel alive and noticed.

There are times when I feel free from the weight of my fear and insecurity.

There are times when I feel connected and full of hope.

In THOSE times I am certain that I can clearly see the fulfillment of that promise.

God HAS sustained me. God HAS come into the tangled mess of my marriage and begun the slow work of bringing order and life to the chaos that we, as tired human beings, have unknowingly created.

Isn't that hope?

Expectation that something miraculous will bloom out of the dirty and selfish mess we have made.