Creative Writing: Forty-five Years of Waiting

Forty-five years of waiting, seeking, striving, struggling, praying, believing or not, wondering where my faith was, feeling guilty and unable to stand.

Forty-five years.

I felt like Abraham.

I gave up so many times, and then I picked up the dream again because I knew God was in it. But for the life of me, I could not see a way.

And I failed and failed and failed.

Just like Abraham did.

Forty-five years of picking myself up and believing again. Of letting down my nets again. Of speaking to my soul again. Of letting Him help me to let go and let Him.

Just like Abraham must have.

Forty-five years.

And then, one day, I was sitting at home when the Spirit of God whispered one single word into my spirit, and a literal earthquake happened inside of me–living lava erupted through the crusty dirt of my human frailty and burned away forty-five years of waiting, seeking, striving, struggling, praying, believing or not, wondering where my faith was. Or maybe the lava fulfilled the years of picking myself up and believing again, letting down my nets again, speaking to my soul again, letting Him help me let go and let Him.

I do not know.

All at once, I became David who couldn’t help but say, “This poor man cried, and the Lord heard him and saved him out of all his trouble.”

And I became Sarah who laughed when she birthed a son to Abraham.

And I who struggled for forty-five years became the one to whom Jesus said, “your faith has healed you.”

How can these things be?

Nothing is too good to be true.

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