Always A Choice

You, Lord, hear the desire of the afflicted; you encourage them, and you listen to their cry.

Psalm 10.17 NIV 

I am having a bad day.

The week has already been long and emotionally taxing. My workdays have been incredibly full of meetings, consultations, and curriculum development. I am also in the process of trying to completely shift careers, which means job applications, informational interviews, and career development podcasts have eaten up my free time. Not to mention, the biggest, angriest blemish I’ve had since high school has been stubbornly protruding from my forehead all week.

Then I woke up this morning to schedule an appointment with a cranky mechanic to have over $400 worth of work done on my car. Next month, I will also have to pay to replace two of my tires and have my oil changed. To top it all off, I just found out that our family pet is dying. He is lying under the porch and crying where no one can reach him.

It is barely noon.

My hands are shaking and I want to cry. So I write in my journal. I write to God.

Why did You make us so weak and vulnerable? Why do my hands shake? Why do I feel these things? I would say I don’t want them, my emotions, but the words die before they reach my mouth. I don’t want to feel nothing at all. I don’t want to be numb, to choose addiction over emotion. But I don’t want to be so wrecked by life. It is agony. My hands keep shaking.

I choose to remember Your hallowed name, Lord. When I know nothing else, I know that. I choose to trust that, though my feelings, the turbulence inside me, tells me I can trust nothing. I remember I still have a choice. I always have a choice. I choose you. I choose recovery. I choose 423.

Maybe my day will improve. Maybe it won’t. Regardless, I tell my heart that my security is sound regardless of external circumstances. And I pray that it will believe me.

Contributor: Jordan N.