His Love Never Fails

I might regret writing this. I've been told many times over that I share too much. However, I've also been told that my sharing, my honesty, and my exposing my heart have helped others.  So why not tell you what happened this past Sunday? Why not share from my heart and expose the enemy? For that is what he is--he is my greatest enemy.

I woke up feeling more discouraged than I had in a very long time. I can't remember the last time I felt so down, so depressed, so undone--for it is not my nature to have these types of feelings. Usually, I am up and raring to go--after coffee, of course, always after coffee. I am up and ready for what the day may bring — I like to keep busy, I like to have fun, and I like to go, go, go except for Sunday. The last thing I wanted to do was go to church, that is.

It felt as if a blanket of depression was almost smothering me. I told my husband that I just wasn't in the mood to go to church, and then I explained why. In a nutshell, it was my attitude. It stunk. Really, it did. I wasn't in the mood for traditions and hymns, rituals and Advent, communion and all the other stuff that was going to happen in church that day.  I just was not in the mood. You see — I am the most non-traditional traditional person I know. Anything that seems ritualistic bothers me unless it is a ritual that I like. I don't know why. Maybe we are all that way to some extent. I've spent a fair amount of time analyzing this weird hang-up of mine and have not come to a conclusion. But can you see the quandary I was in? In my mind, it was all about what I liked and didn't like. And these preferences were being used against me that morning. Satan was whispering in my ear--stay home. You'll have more fun decorating for Christmas, going out to lunch, and shopping. You need a break anyway. You are at church way too much. You are too involved. Take a sabbatical. Disengage--just a bit. Yes, he said that and more. And I listened.

I shared all this with my husband, and he said that he thought we should go anyway. Because if Satan was so adamant about keeping me from going to church that morning, there must be a pretty good reason why. Wow, my husband is so smart. So I relented, and I went and got ready.  I did not put on a bright, cheery face, though.  I did not smile. I pouted. All the way there. And I made my husband promise to take me to lunch afterward. I'm a big baby that way; I wanted a prize for going to church that morning. I am so spoiled — so very immature at times. OK, all the time.

Funny--it happened just the way I thought it would, though--at first anyway. Yep, we started singing an old hymn I had never ever heard in my life —not my type of song at all. But then, the next song was better, and the next--even better.  And by the time our pastor began to preach, the cloud had lifted off my heart, and I was able to listen, take notes, learn, and enjoy the service.  Afterward, we ended the morning with an awesome song. I felt God there that morning. That last song touched my heart. In fact, it melted my heart. It turned my discouragement into pure joy. I realized that I wasn't there for me, but I was there for God. To worship and praise Him.  To sing to Him.  To be there because He told me that I needed to be there. It wasn't about me at all--it was all about Him.  Not me. Not me.

I know that God has brought us to our little church for a reason. The people are awesome. We have great friends there. We love that sweet church with all our hearts. And guess who doesn't like that one little bit? Yeah, him. The one who is my greatest enemy. And I almost listened to him. I almost gave in--to the enemy, to my flesh, to my selfishness. I almost caved. And it dawned on me--even the most positive, optimistic people fall prey and get attacked. He's out to get me and you. He's out to win this battle for our hearts and souls. However, I have a father who watches over me. Who protects my heart and guards me. Who will never leave me or forsake me. All I have to do is call out to Him, and He will hear me.

Thank you, God, for being patient with me. For listening to me, for letting me "get it all out", for letting me throw a tantrum and still loving me. Thank you for this life of mine, for being faithful, and, most of all, for loving me even when I am unlovable.   Kindness, mercy, grace, love, patience, understanding--I could go on forever. My love for my God is endless. His love never fails.