The years 2018–2019 would turn out to be the hardest years of my life. They were harder than year after year of infertility and miscarriages. They were harder than the years of caring for three toddlers. They were even harder than accepting my youngest child’s terminal diagnosis.
All of those things I could accept easier because it was between God and me. Did I believe what I said I believed? I did. And I clung to him tighter and tighter.
But 2018–2019 turned me inside out because it was damage and heartache between me and God’s people — or people who claimed to love and follow my same God.
I asked God lots of questions. Who are these people? Are they yours? Why are they so unlike you?
Where is love, truth, kindness, integrity?
Those were the years that I realized I had been lied to, cheated on, misused, and abused in my marriage for over 20 years. Those were the years that self-proclaimed Christians tried to keep me bound, silent, and beholden so that I wouldn’t threaten their money and their power.
When I had to reckon with the actions of others, spiritually and tangibly, I had to look them in the face, but that also meant momentarily turning away from looking at God to look in the other direction, because that’s where they were operating.
It was then that I realized I’d always had it wrong. It was never supposed to be me holding onto God.
I began crying out for him to hold on to me.
Hold on to me when I wanted to run down the wrong path in how I responded to them.
Hold on to me if I picked up a mic or a pen or a social media post in vengeance.
Hold on to me when I was falling off the cliff.
Hold on to me when I felt like jumping off the cliff.
Lord, Hold. On. To. Me.
Our grip is never tight enough, never strong enough to hold on to the God of the universe.
But our hearts can be broken and weak and humble enough to ask him to hold on to us.
For I am the Lord your God, who holds your right hand, who says to you, “Do not fear, I will help you.