One request I have made to God has not been answered in the way I want.
It makes me feel like a small child who only gets to look through the window of a candy store pleading with their parent for the goodies inside.
You know how it is if you’ve got or had young children—they whine and tirelessly ask again and again. I’m sure they are born with one mode: persistence overcomes resistance. How often do we give in, just for some peace and quiet?
Yet for nineteen or more years I have repeatedly asked the same question—well, more like whined to God. And his answer has always been no. I’m still waiting for it to be answered in a way that meets with my heart’s desire.
I’m not sure if young children question their parent’s love when they don’t get what they want. Yet, I’ve often at times disputed God’s love and seen his answer as rejection of me.
Then, I’ve chewed over whether I have asked with a lack of faith or with the wrong motives—that my request is selfish, or outside God’s plans. I’ve tied myself in knots in this way.
I would like to move away from here. Please make it happen. I don’t want to live here anymore. I never really wanted to live here. I would be happier if we moved.
Moving back home seems appealing on the surface, but underneath I’m not completely sure because if it’s not what God wants for me, then I’m not sure I want it either.
I like some aspects of living in New England. I don’t specifically admit this to God, instead I add: Living somewhere else in the world would be better—anywhere but here.
Friends around me have come and gone. Our town is renown for relocation to and from other parts of the world. But our location remains firmly the same.
I never imagined living here for so long. When we had been in New England less than a year, I met another British woman on the playground. “How long have you lived here,” I enquired. “Ten years,” she replied. I nearly died. If that were me, I thought, I’d swim the Atlantic.
Circumstances do not allow us to leave New England. We are firmly stuck, as if in mud.
Your plans for me must be different from my own, I acknowledge reluctantly.
Scripture says they are better, but I only consider God stalling on my request.
If you want me to stay here, then you have to provide me with strength to do so. Yet, my heart is not in these words.
I ask for strength, but I would rather not have it.
Joseph, the Bible tells us, lived “stuck in Egypt” and away from his homeland, and struggled to come to terms with his circumstances. He shed many tears. I know how he felt.
Yet, Joseph remained faithful to God. Eventually, he understood God’s plan for his life.
I consider my own meager faithfulness, and how disgruntled I get with God. I too, need to remain faithful to you, I pray, help me to see that you have a good plan. Give me wisdom and understanding.
God’s answer is still no to leaving New England. My children are off to college, scattered around the world, and we have a house with a “For Sale” sign outside. It’s been there since September.
You’d think at this point I would have learned a lesson, or given up. I do still occasionally pray about moving on. Yet, truthfully, I’m too scared to bring up the matter honestly with God, in case the answer continues to be no.
Now is the time to change that. I sense him asking me to yield my heart’s desire to him.
Where is God asking you to give up your heart’s desire?
Linking up with Suzie Eller at #liveFree