What’s the thing that feels too heavy for you? Is it getting out of bed in the morning? Does the very monotony of life choke you?

Pinchy Place

In the recent months, I’ve snuggled deep into the uncomfortable stage my life is in. I’m pinched between my expectation for life and the reality I live. And, yes, it’s a pinch. No matter which way I wiggle, I’m still dissatisfied, frustrated, and uncomfortable.

My prayers whine, “Goddddd, why am I here? What am I doing? This wasn’t a part of the plannnn.”

And yet, here I am.

Of course, I know that I’m not a tree, and I have legs so I can go ahead and move. But move where? Where do I go when I don’t know where I want to go? Ughhh. It’s circular, I swear. Even as I long to move (and when I say move I don’t necessarily mean change locations), I want to stay, too.

As some of you may know, I’ve been obsessed with aerial silks recently, and my teachers demonstrate these pinchy poses, where the silk cuts into soft flesh of your inner thigh for a side lean. When students groan over the pinch, the teacher grin and assure us, “Don’t worry. You’ll lose the nerves there eventually. And it won’t hurt anymore.”

Comforting, right? Eventually that uncomfortable pose will become not uncomfortable. Because the nerves die?

So is that okay to apply to life, too? Is my discomfort in life something that I want to just ignore until it becomes not uncomfortable? I don’t know if I’ll believe that uncomfortable can ever become comfortable.

Unlike aerial silks, I’m not sure it’s okay to stay in an uncomfortable place long term, but learning happens in those uncomfortable places so keep eyes wide open.

He will sustain you

And so, I tangle through whiny, confused prayers, teeter-tottering from “Jesus, I trust what you are doing through this slow process even if I can’t see it.” to “Jesus, what the crap were you thinking? I don’t get this at all. Can you get me out of here now?”

Isaiah 46:4

Even to your old age and gray hairs

I am he, I am he who will sustain you.

I have made you and I will carry you.

I will rescue you and I will sustain you.

And then, scrolling through Pinterest as my eyes dimmed by the sheer number of beautiful images, one slapped me across the eyeballs. Here it is [I won’t post it because you can get in trouble with copyrights].

Naturally, I scrambled to look the entire passage up. And, though, God speaks to the Israelites specifically, I hope these words are for the adopted, too, those of us who decided that the God of Israel is truly alive.

Do you need rescuing? Do you need someone to carry you?

It’s okay to raise your hand. You’ll be joining me so you’re not alone (and neither am I).

God of Israel,

You’ve pieced us together and traced out a story for us. Your promises last into our old age and gray hairs and further.

But mostly, we need you. We need you every hour to sustain us, to carry us, and to rescue us.

Sure, we can try to do this life without you, but inevitably we spin ourselves into the ground and root like a tree.

So, God of Israel, if you care for your adopted children, too, would you carry us? Would you sustain us as we try to figure out your heart for our lives?