I’m going to be honest. Writing this blog is a little nerve-wracking. I haven’t written in a while and I feel like I’ve forgotten how to do it. I think about communicating with the world and what I want to say. What I want to share is the mystery and comfort and wonder of laying in my bed in the middle of the night, wide awake, talking to the Creator of the Universe. The mix of holy fear and awe, and child’s need for a parent, and longing for grace and mercy that motivate my prayers.
I want to share with you my confusion and anger and bewilderment as I struggle to comprehend and respond to the events going on in our world. I want to tell you about my daily walk with grace as I navigate marriage and parenting. I want to share about God’s faithfulness to not leave me stuck in my sin, in my pain, in my unforgiveness towards others and myself. I want to tell you about all of God’s gifts to me as he has swung open doors and opportunities to be involved in work that I’m passionate about.
This past year I have done a lot of deep thinking about faith and how I practice that faith. I’ve done a lot of deep thinking about politics and what it means to practice my faith as an American. I’ve thought a lot about how to deal with the past, forgiving hurts, but also trying to figure out how to unlearn the lies that came with those hurts.
I turned forty-seven this past year. There is something about that number that made me feel like I should have arrived by now. By now I should have this Adulting thing down pat. By now I should be strong, confident, and perfect. By now I should have my crap together.
And I don’t.
Which is maybe the breaking of that final myth in my mind, that grownups know what they are doing. In this sense, we all remain children. Still learning, sure that the people older than us must know everything, and we just haven’t arrived yet. And apparently, we never arrive. At least not here in this life on earth.
I still have questions about faith and how to live it out. I very much don’t know what to do about the state of the world or my country. I still don’t know how to stand for justice. I still struggle with wrong thinking about myself and others. I still struggle.
Which might be discouraging to young people who are heading out into the world, sure that soon, they’ll have it all figured out. But, maybe it’s encouraging for others my age and older to know they aren’t alone in constantly being surprised at their own lack and shortcomings as they face the daily challenges.
What I have learned in my forty-seven years of living is that Jesus is faithful. He is gentle. He is kind. He is compassionate. And he is always with me. I am not alone. I am not disdained. I am not scorned. And as I run into each problem and crisis and puzzle, I don’t have to feel the desperate fear of wondering if I’ll make it through this. I already know that I will, because Jesus is helping me. Not removing all the struggles from my path, just holding my hand, pulling me forward, teaching me what I need to learn as I go.
That is my great comfort and peace that sustains me and gives me joy. And that is what I want to share with you in my blog.
Life With Esther 