Oh how could it be?

I forget easily.

Every struggle seems to be new. It allows room for dramatic sighs, melancholy thoughts, and faltering doubts. It permits me to temporarily stand on wavering logs in the ocean, ready to tip at any moment, and ponder on hopelessness. It gives me an excuse to go with the way of the world for a little bit.

I never seem to remember that God has brought me through every struggle I've been through. While I question Him, He has been faithful to keep His promises: I have been struck down, but He has never allowed me to be destroyed, perplexed, but never in full despair.

I confess. In this spiral staircase of my spiritual life, I am overdue for a struggle. I have become comfortable with where I am spiritually right now; proud, even. On one part, grateful for how God's molded me these past 4 years, thankful for trials passed. But on the other hand, feeling smug and complacent, sort of a "oh how I've matured" type of thing.

I am reminded of the apostle Paul in 2 Corinthians. In chapter 12, Paul is explaining to the Corinthians about how when God gave Paul many revelations, he was given a thorn of the flesh to prevent him from boasting.

"To keep me from becoming conceited because of these surpassingly great revelations, there was given me a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me" (2 Cor. 12:7)

Who am I to boast of this minuscule progress I've made? What am I compared to God, in His holiness and pure perfection? This trial, this lowering in ranks, this lack of direction, I believe this is God's way of humbling me, bringing me back to my proper place. He's telling me to stop robbing Him of His glory, of His work. The sense of struggling leaves a familiar taste on my tongue because I trust that God will do amazing things through it, but it also brings a new taste, a taste of how much I will suffer this time, a fear of how much I will grumble. But when I am weak, then His power is made perfect in me.

Slowly, I've come to develop a love/hate relationship with struggles. I hate the uncertainty that seems to come with every struggle. Regardless of how much head knowledge I have, my emotions over take my facts, and thus results in uncertainty. I hate hate hate the emotions that come with struggling; the fears and anxiety, the uncertainty and doubt. But I love the process itself. The molding and refining, the realizations and discoveries. Trials are almost a tangible confirmation that God is working in me. I love even the pain and tears; it gives me hope knowing that one day God will be glorified through this and I will be more Christlike after this.

How wonderful it is that my God is one whose grace is sufficient for all my sins! That even in my grumbling and complaining, in my pride and selfishness, He loves me still.