God didn't turn His back on me. But He didn't follow me in my frantic attempt to escape and save my pride. I was beyond my breaking point.
Finally alone, I collapsed in a heap while angry sobs erupted into a river of tears of sadness. I felt so conflicted. Numerous times, I've felt God's love and witnessed His hand in my life. There's nothing like knowing God's got my back; that He'll never fail to catch me when I fall. But this time I felt abandoned. I began to doubt what I thought I knew.
I'd laid there in the silence for a really long time before I recalled an experience someone had recently shared with me, of walking past the window of their motel room and seeing a friend and her daughter in the parking lot struggling to fit a bicycle into their vehicle. He recognized it would be a tight fit, but knew it would be possible if they put it in at just the right angle. He watched, and though they were unaware, he encouraged their efforts and cheered when they finally succeeded in their long exhausting attempts to overcome the difficult obstacles that seemed to shriek "FAIL!" He shared with me the joy he felt in witnessing their success. "And in that moment", he said, "I felt as though I'd had a glimpse of how it must be for God to watch us struggle, resist intervention, letting us choose to give up or keep at it until we succeed. And when we succeed, what joy must fill His heart."
The tears came again, this time though they were tears of gratitude that slowly coursed their way down my cheeks. And I smiled as I felt God's strong gentle hand on my head. Yes I had struggled. And I was exhausted physically and emotionally. But God had my best interest in mind when He chose not to intervene. He understood better than I. And because I stubbornly persisted and succeeded in winning this particular battle, I now stand stronger to win the war.
