Oceans in the Desert

June 1st, 2024
Kathi Pelton

A new month— a new perspective.

For me, May was just brutally hard on just about every level. First, it was so physically it was hard— three unexpected surgeries, almost constant (unbearable) pain, a dozen prescriptions both helping me but also messing with my body in ways that I’m now experiencing the effects of, etc. But sometimes when you’re physically worn down, it brings down all of those walls that are erected in life that we think are allowing us to move forward— and not give in. We don’t want to allow soul pain to hinder “the greater work” that we believe we are doing.

But, May’s physical trials achieved the dismantling of every aspect of being strong in myself— and quite honestly— that is good and I needed to come to this point.

So last night, on the final night of May, I wept. I didn’t just cry hard or have an emotional moment— I poured out to the Lord the most honest thoughts, emotions, doubts, confusion, and pain that I have in years. I sobbed uncontrollably before Him— it was raw, real and probably beautiful to Him to have me invite Him into that place— I actually hadn’t even invited myself into that place. I was never purposely holding back from Him— it’s just that we get in patterns of pressing through to the point that at times we don’t allow human vulnerability to bring us to true intimacy and humility. What we think is spiritual strength becomes fortified walls that block humility, honesty and intimacy.

I wept over so many things— long-time pent up things. Like watching my beautiful daughter and son-in-law go through twelve years of such painful infertility only to now be in an adoption process that is demanding so much of them (financially and emotionally) that I wonder where God is in the process? Where are the answer to years and years of prayers? And do I dare even ask that honest of a question? Am I doubting His faithfulness or am I just allowing honest human thoughts and confusion to be brought before Him?

I couldn’t hold back anything— the floodgates of pain, questions, doubts and fears were all bared before Him.

Yet, God did not seem remotely threatened by my humanity, my confusion or my deep pain. He met me more in that moment than I have experienced in a very long time. The pain that I poured out allowed a fresh flow of a deep intercession that must have needed the element of complete vulnerability before Him. It beckons the question of if what I viewed as strength and “pressing through” was actually holding back from Him— holding back my heart and holding back honesty for the sake of appearing spiritual?

Have we become too “spiritual” to weep like Hannah? Has being spiritually strong replaced being vulnerable— and how does intimacy happen without vulnerability?

I wept over many things— like the burden on so many people (especially young families) to try to make ends meet yet they are living like the Israelites while in captivity under Pharaoh. Always working more and more but never having enough— and the pressures growing daily. Or the pressures on their children who are growing up in a world where God’s ways have been abandoned for strange beliefs, idolatry and perversions.

Maybe our nation has been under judgment for the sake of His mercy so that we might turn back to Him? Of course judgment is good when it comes from mercy— the mercy that is willing to allow pain to bring forth salvation. Still— the pains and pressures of it hurt.

Maybe it’s time that His people deal with the pains and pressures that touch our human souls rather than pretend that we are stronger than being affected by death, loss and suffering? Maybe our strength comes from allowing our weakness to be fully shared by our compassionate Savior? Doesn’t it say that when we are weak, His strength is made complete!

I am not writing this to be depressing or to overshare— but to say that maybe we need to get vulnerable with God because intimacy cannot be produced apart from vulnerability.

This morning I actually feel closer to Him than I have in many months because I let Him in to such deep places. I allowed Him into my weakest places that I was afraid and even ashamed to admit. Places of doubt, of unbelief and maybe even some anger. He met me there and His compassion poured over me like the sweetest love.

I don’t necessarily have answers to the many questions but I so deeply experienced His presence and compassion— and His intimate partnership with my pain. In so many ways, that was the answer that I needed.

So, goodbye May and though all that you brought was not welcomed or wanted— it accomplished tearing down the walls of human strength that had become barriers to intimacy with my Lord. My weakness has become His strength.

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