Surrender

Much like facing my earthly father, facing my heavenly father felt like it was going to be healthy dose of shame. I did not want to face either of them.

Sometimes when I called my mother at the sound of her voice I would just break down into tears. She heard the pain and confusion in my voice, my sobs, “Did you do what I said? Pray? Did you pray, Melissa?”

Silence. Sobs.

It did not sound like lecturing. It sounded like an honest plea from a mother’s heart that felt ill equipped to help her daughter.

“Did you hear from Jerry yet? . . . Maybe you need to talk to a Pastor. Do you have a church you can go to? Do you know anyone there?”

“Mom? Mom, please come get me. Let me come there. I can’t stay here alone. Mom, please . . .”

“Melissa, listen to me. You can’t just leave the Army. What do you think coming here would do? It just moves your problems from Kansas to Florida, that’s all. Why are you being so stubborn? I keep telling you, you are feeling confused because you won’t pray. You are not alone, Melissa. Why won’t you turn to the Lord? Why? I’m praying for you so hard, every day I ask the Lord Jesus to protect you and help you to see. I asked my church to pray for you and your baby –and for Jerry. You go do the same thing too and you’ll see. Trust me. Trust me, Melissa. You’ll see.”

I left the call center angry, angry at my mother that she wouldn’t help me –though I had no concept of what “help” I was looking for. She was my mom, I just wanted her to make everything all better. Just one simple kiss on a scraped knee and I’m good to go. . .

But this was not just a scraped knee . . . .

I was driving back to the barracks and I started to pray –sort of. It was really more like telling God why I wasn’t going to pray as if to say, “I’m not talking to you and this is why.”

And it went something like this . . .

I can’t pray to you because I don’t even know you. I don’t know what to tell you, what to ask. I’m sure you don’t even want to hear from me –who would? Everyone is upset with me, why should you be any different? I want to ask for forgiveness but –I don’t deserve it. You’re not even listening now, are you? I don’t deserve to be heard, I know that. But if you can’t hear my prayers, please allow me to pray on behalf of my baby. Please don’t abandon me for my baby’s sake.

I prayed all the way back to my barracks room, feeling defeated, feeling sorry for myself, feeling abandoned. I went to my room and picked up my Bible. I have never in my life read the Old Testament. I laid on my bed, Bible in hand and whispered, “God, why won’t you speak to me? Where are you?” I opened my Bible and read:

O Lord, you have searched me
and you know me.
You know when I sit and when I rise;
you perceive my thoughts from afar.

You discern my going out and my lying down;
you are familiar with all my ways.

Before a word is on my tongue
you know it completely, O Lord.

You hem me in—behind and before;
you have laid your hand upon me.

Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
too lofty for me to attain.

Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.

If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me
and the light become night around me,"
even the darkness will not be dark to you;
the night will shine like the day,
for darkness is as light to you.

For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother's womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.

My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place.
When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,
your eyes saw my unformed body.

All the days ordained for me
were written in your book
before one of them came to be.
How precious to me are your thoughts, O God!

How vast is the sum of them!
Were I to count them,
they would outnumber the grains of sand.

When I awake,
I am still with you.

If only you would slay the wicked, O God!
Away from me, you bloodthirsty men!
They speak of you with evil intent;
your adversaries misuse your name.

Do I not hate those who hate you, O Lord,
and abhor those who rise up against you?
I have nothing but hatred for them;
I count them my enemies.

Search me, O God, and know my heart;
test me and know my anxious thoughts.
See if there is any offensive way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting.

With tears streaming down my face, I closed my Bible and I locked every word of Pslam 139 in my heart.  I got up, bent my knees down onto a cold, hard, tiled Army barracks floor.  Kneeling against my Army bunk, I nestled my elbows into the scratchy wool of a green Army blanket . . .

And without the need of any words spoken, muttered or even thought . . . .

With tears flowing from my heart as rapidly as they were flowing from my eyes . .

I opened my heart to a loving and forgiving God . . . .

A heart that was broken . . .

A heart that was confused . . .

A heart that was torn . . .

A heart that was full of sorrow . . .

And full of pain . . . .

And with my knees pressed against that cold, hard, tiled Army barracks floor . . .

I surrendered my heart to my God . . .

And for the first time in years I finally realized . . .

I was not alone.