But unlike that time, instead of running away from God, this time she wanted to runtoHim. Despite everything, something deep inside could sense this was another defining God moment in her life, and after the years of resentment she’d had to overcome from making the wrong decision when Stephen died, she knew she couldn’t go down that same bitter path again.
Balancing her Bible and cup of tea she moved to the comfy lounge chair near the window, where the open curtains revealed Toronto’s night lights. She sat there for a moment just watching, the lights blurring and shifting as she blinked away the tears.
Oh God, why? Why did this happen? Everything was going fine…
The storm descended and she wept an agony of tears, trying desperately to muffle them so Dan wouldn’t wake up. She didn’t know what to say, what could help him. She barely had enough reserves to breathe let alone comfort him.
Oh God, help…
Grabbing another tissue she blew her nose, thankful that Dan wasn’t up to see her puffy red features. He’d seen that before; not pretty. Then wondered how vanity could even be talking right now. Unbelievable.
Exhaling a long, shaky sigh she looked at the Bible, recalling the many stories of lost dreams and sorrow intertwined amidst the hope. She picked it up, the pages falling open automatically at the start of Job. Two days ago her uncle had been preaching about Job’s trials, and the church bulletin still marked the page. Familiar with the story, Sarah read it again.
God, help me understand…
Dawn’s pink fingers were stretching across the sky by the time she finally looked again. Her head was swimming, the tiredness she’d been living with for the past few months making her weak, but still, something in her didn’t want to stop. Psalms were next, and she slowly began reading.
Psalms had always been one of her favorite places to go. Singers usually could find things to appreciate about other people’s songs. Scanning the happy praise ones, she searched for answers, just as Uncle John had said to do.
As she read so many of David’s songs, fragments of sermons and Bible verses she’d heard all her life melded into a fuzzy certainty. Somehow, God was still God. He still loved her and Dan, He still had good plans—her heart caught at that—and she still needed to trust Him.Live in the opposite spirit, cried another faint voice.Put on the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness!
Praise? Praise God at a time like this? Everything in her wanted to cry and weep and blame and throw accusing words at God. Not praise Him. How could she do this? Another memory surfaced, a verse Dan had reminded her about, back in Muskoka when she was still depressed. “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”
Well, this was one of those times to prove whether the writers of the Bible really did know what they were talking about, stop questioning, and just do.
With a voice raspy from tears, wet cheeks from hours of sorrow, and a spirit that hovered too close to despair, Sarah opened her mouth.
“Lord, You are good, You are faithful, You have good plans for me.”
The whisper broke, and she hunched over, grief threatening to overwhelm again, before she took another deep breath, trying to regain control.
“Lord, I love You, I praise You, I want to honor You…”
As she softly spoke the words aloud, it felt like her soul was trying to stand up, no longer crouching, cloaked in despair.
“Lord, You are the creator, You are Jehovah Jireh my provider, You will provide for me and Dan…”
She even managed to sing a couple of lines from the song she’d been working on yesterday. “I know You love me, I’ve seen Your grace so many times.”
She continued on with the rest of the verse, then sang some choruses from church, faith-building words that sounded nothing like the last time she’d led them from the front. No, this was definitely real now. Who cared about harmonies or trying to stay in pitch when it felt like a battle for her soul was taking place? So she sang, raspy, broken phrases as she shuddered through tears. “Lord, You are our deliverer. You are our strength. You are our comfort.”
As she repeated and reiterated the verses, swatting away the hopelessness that hovered, it felt like a spiritual battle was taking place, God’s truth fighting a dark force. Demons of despair and condemnation were not going to be entertained. Not this time. Instead, they were going to be excised, eliminated. They were not welcome here, in her life, or Dan’s, or in their marriage.
And by the time the first streaks of sun gold illuminated the city, Sarah felt a strange peace surround her, despite the deep grief that still lay in her heart.
“God,” she whispered, “I know that You are faithful. Help me to trust You.”
* * *
A faint sound wakened Dan.He rolled over, stretching out a hand. No Sarah. Instead, the sheets felt cool, a sign she hadn’t been in bed for ages. He stretched, then slowly made his way out of the bedroom, grabbing his robe as he saw the faint light shining under the second bedroom from the end of the hall. That wasn’t unusual. He’d woken in the past to find her in here, writing a song she said had come in the middle of the night.
But Sarah wasn’t at the keyboard, headphones in, smiling to herself as she composed a song, or chatting quietly on the computer while she connected across crazy time zones with her family or Heartsong Collective colleagues. Instead, she sat in the chair near the window, staring out as Toronto’s morning lights gleamed, ready for a new day. Her Bible was open, and a full cup of tea sat abandoned nearby.
“Sar?”
She turned, hastily rubbing a hand over her face, before gazing at him, deep sorrow in her eyes.
Oh God.Dan’s heart started beating double time as he moved past the furniture to kneel at her feet. “Sar, what is it?” He held her cold hands, praying desperately that she wouldn’t say—
