I drove to Charleston this weekend, knowing I needed some time to set my soul right. I ate dinner my first night with total strangers in a random restaurant downtown, and I ended tonight with my hands in the air, crying and singing in a church full of brothers and sisters. It was one of those good cries--men, I know you don't get it--but it was so incredibly necessary.
Through those tears, I was saying, "It is well. It is well. It is well with me."
I've sung those lyrics so many times, but tonight it wasn't so well with me. "God I don't want to do this. Why did I so blindly choose to go to Japan? I'm happy here. God please don't make me do this." I surprised myself with my own rebellion. Where did that come from?
Then I took the Communion bread. "Beloved I did this for you."
Father God, I have doubted your goodness. I've trusted my heart over your Word.
"And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose." No wonder Romans 8:28 is my Mammaw's favorite verse. Tonight, it's a reminder, not just that good things are in store, but that God is good and he is love and he intends good for me, just because I love him.
How can I doubt that Jesus, who went so far as to die so I might "have life and have it abundantly" (John 10:10), would not intend only the very best for me? The same God who created the universe, who heals the brokenhearted, who sets the captives free, is in my corner. He's intended so much good for me, so much joy, and so much life, yet I've tried to control and manipulate the outcome to fit how I think it should look.
So tonight, it might mean Japan, the Middle East, Camp Lejeune, or sitting on the back of a horse in New Mexico. It might mean friendships, parting of ways, triumphs, and failures. Tonight it might mean abundance, it might mean poverty, it might mean death, but surely He will always lead to life and I will say it is well. It is well. It is well with me.
