Last night my friend called my current season of life a pressing season. I don’t know what season I’m in but I’m calling uncle.
This past weekend was one of the most emotionally difficult I’ve had…and that includes being in the house when my Grandmom passed. Cleaning out her house. Dealing with long unresolved emotions regarding family. First Thanksgiving without her.
God is my strength, but I’ve been mad at him for a week or two, so I find myself on my proverbial knees in a train station waiting for a late train instead of my usual train. I’m mad at him for free will. I’m mad at him because of hypocrisy. I’m mad at him because I’m completely depleted of every ounce of strength.
But, when I am weak He is strong. When I am freaking out He is my peace. When I am rotten to the core, He still looks at me with love, asking me if I’m ready for His grace. And if He has grace for me, he has grace for all of the other weak hypocrites out there.