I was still a child, Target shoes and all. Sure, I had heard of miracles. Thought I believed in them too. Throughout my early years of faith, I prayed for miracles. Childlike prayers–“God, if you get me off this roller coaster alive, I swear I’ll never swear again.” I didn’t know real sacrifice.
Yet, when I’m finally tested to give up something good, this love, I wrestled. I fought. I held on to my silly shoes (to this day) as some defiance towards God. As if I showed Him, “I’ll obey…BUT.” Even now, I hate surrender. Therefore, I excuse myself, like many of us, to say “If you don’t feel like it, you don’t need to.” Says who? Me? Who am I to tell God what He can do, how He can do it and when? Have I learned nothing from those who have gone before me throughout Scripture? Can I rebuke God?
In my childish way, I kicked, I pouted, I cried. I wore myself out. Slumping down in my corner with exhaustion, I gave in to my battle with God. I look over those prayers, over seven years ago, and I see that my heart wanted God. I wanted what was right. But I fought it. I didn’t want to give into what was right. I wanted both–my way–and His. Unfortunately, many days, my way is what comes first.
I remember challenging God, asking that if this relationship would end that He would bring this man love again. I knew it would be only a miracle to open that door to what God had planned.
It was. Almost four years later, he remarried his wife. I look back now, not in pain, but in true joy. Knowing that God showed me then, anything is possible.