You are faithful and faithless. You cry and plead with Him, not knowing when your prayers will be answered. You set up an appointment with a counselor because you know you need help. You drag your feet in the morning and take your medicine at night.
And then, when you least expect it, He speaks.
You go to church on Sunday even though you feel like crap because you know it’s right. You feel like crap all the way until the closing song of the service, when you are swept up into pure, unadulterated adoration. You raise your hands and weep. The song says there is no condemnation for those in Christ Jesus. God says that the voices you have heard that week about being fat and ugly are lies. There is no condemnation.
You go downstairs for breakfast in the fellowship hall. They are serving plaintains and jamón in honor of Latino Heritage Month, and it is delicious. You sit down with someone you have been slowly getting to know over the past year. She tells you that she has recently learned that her mom has bipolar just like you. She tells you how much she has been blessed by seeing her parents’ love for each other throughout her mom’s struggles. You start crying because you have wanted to have children but have been afraid, afraid of not being stable when you try to switch to a medication that won’t cause birth defects, afraid of caring for a baby when you have to get sleep at night, afraid of the damage you’ll do to a child when you are depressed or manic. She prays for you, your husband and your future children.
The next day you go to your counseling appointment. You feel free and safe to talk about your struggles. You come home and suddenly, astoundingly, have an opportunity to begin to reconcile with someone that you have felt tension with for a long time. The relief and gratitude overwhelms you as you sob into your husband’s arms.
You are faithful and faithless. You cry and plead with Him, not knowing when He’ll answer. And then, when you least expect it, He speaks.