More Than a Conqueror

I lost a dear friend recently. I lost him so quickly I didn't even know what had happened. One day he was alive, the next he was not. But I also lost something else - something even more important - my faith. This loss was not nearly as quick or as obvious, and perhaps not as complete, but for all intents and purposes, until a few weeks ago, my faith was gone. Adam's death shook me to my core, snatching out from under me anything not firmly rooted. I could tell myself that I'd be okay, and that with time it would get easier, but I was not seeing any evidence of that, and without faith, we rely on what we see. What I saw was myself becoming a whirlwind of emotions, not knowing what to expect from my own self. All I knew was that I did not want a life like that. I came to a breaking point one day, and literally could barely function. I could not think a rational thought, and I could sense myself sinking and sinking into a place I had never been. It terrified me.

Then two very special people in my life came along and grabbed me by the hand, and started trying to pull me back out. At first, their efforts did little more than keep me from sinking further, but at least that was progress. One of these people made me stop and take a step back. She told me to look at my life and decide what needed to give - because something had to. She told me I needed to get away. Any excuse I offered up she was not willing to accept. She offered to let me use her car, said she would pay for the gas, and she even called some friends to see if I could stay with them. She basically did all but drive me there.

The second person was my rock - my shoulder to cry on, and my listening ear. As hard as it was for me to reach out for help, she knew when I needed it. And as many other things as she probably needed to be doing with her time, she was more than willing to give me all the time I needed. She was ready to talk when I needed her to, and ready to sit in silence with me when I needed that. And she never lost faith in me. Though I had lost most of mine, she kept her's strong. She told me that even if I didn't have faith, she did, and she had enough for both of us.

After only the first day of my trip, I knew that I would be okay. So now, a few weeks later, I'm sitting here wondering exactly what happened to me. Did I lose my faith? Or was it my faith that kept me from going under? What I find ironic is that everything I've learned, and everything I needed to hear, all along was right there in black and white and red, in the Bible. I just couldn't accept it, mostly because I was angry. But now, whenever I think about what I've learned from all of this, I realize that it's a Bible verse I've read somewhere along the way. And now I just crave more of it.

The truths I was not accepting I'm now seeking out and wanting to find. The faith I thought was dead is suddenly unprecedentedly strong. And the God I was so angry with is the one I want to be close to more than anything. So, ultimately, what I've learned through this experience, and what I've known my whole life, are one in the same:

In all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose. And I am more than a conqueror through Him who loves me. For neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.