Murmuring


When I was in high school, I thought everything would be perfect once I became a doctor. Here’s the thing, I never became one. Nor do I think I’ll ever become one. I feel like I’m always wrestling between things that I’m good at, things that I love, and things that just make sense. I’ve always been a nerd, I like studying, I like researching about any and everything. I think people around me had such high hopes for the walking encyclopedia. A lot of people feel like I let them down when I stopped being a pre-med student. Sorry, I can’t provide free healthcare.

I’ve been singing and writing since I was a child. I love it. I feel alive when I do both. There’s an openness I feel that I never feel with anyone or anything except God. I would do both whether I was paid or not, in fact I do both and barely get anything from it, except sheer joy.

But, there’s something else in me that wars with everything I know and love.

Discontentment.

Murmuring makes sense.

At least to my selfish, self-serving, unsatisfied, impatient flesh.

I’m always finding something I’m missing. Right now, it’s love. Sometimes, I question if I know what love is. I’ve been in love, although I think it was the worst kind of love to be in. The kind of love where the person keeps hurting you and because you love them more than you love yourself, you stay. I don’t know if it’s because I desperately want to know what love really feels like, that I’ve put it on this pedestal. I’m honestly not sure. And sometimes, I’m mad at myself because shouldn’t God’s love be enough?

I love my relationship with God, I wouldn’t trade it in for anything or anyone. Not even the most handsome, romantic guy in the world. I wouldn’t trade my relationship in with God for all of that. Is it bad to want things to compliment my relationship with God?

I must admit, I’m still working through those feelings.

There’s a constant battle for me to encourage myself daily about my life. There are facts. I am unemployed. I cannot afford to do simple things for myself. Thank God I live with family. At least food and shelter is taken care of. Thank God for a body that hasn’t changed much and I can fit into clothes from high school and even middle school. I’ve been dealing with some health issues. Thank God it be worse. I’m so grateful it’s not worse. It’s painful. It’s hard. But I’m glad it’s not worse.

People say I have things to be proud of. I’m only 23. I’m days away from getting my Master’s, I got my Bachelor’s at 21. I’ve published 3 books. I’m not saying this to brag. Really. I’m saying this cause I’m ashamed that I don’t feel as proud of me as everyone else is. I get embarrassed when someone introduces me to someone else as “the writer”. I get tongue tied when someone asks me what my books are about. I’m not sure of what to make of myself, because in the back of my head I know that while someone has me pegged as this “accomplished” person, I feel like I’ve done almost nothing.

Discontentment.

I feel like I’ve done nothing because I haven’t done all that I want to do yet. And I’m beginning to realize that when I fall in love and when I get married and that becomes familiar, that I’ll feel unfulfilled because I have no kids. And when I have kids and I can’t get any sleep, then it’ll be something else. And then something else. There will always be something else. There will always be something to murmur about.

I know I don’t want bad things. I have good desires. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to experience love, to eventually get married and have kids. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to have a successful career and not struggle every week to make ends meet. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be off medication and not have chronic hives. But there’s everything wrong with ungratefulness, discontentment and murmuring. Because even though I’m lacking, God IS enough. He’s promised to supply all of my needs. He’s promised to do exceedingly, abundantly above all that I could ask or imagine. He’s promised to be with me always. And that IS enough.

Murmuring is acting like I don’t have a faithful father in heaven. I know all of this, although it takes time for my wicked heart to get the message. It’s been rough going through everything I’ve been dealing with for over a year. But I think this is the best thing that could’ve happened to me. Not getting everything I wanted. Having tons of things go horribly wrong. Struggling to find employment. Filling out tons of applications. Getting tons of rejection letters. Seeing zero book sales months in a row. Going back and forth from doctor to doctor, hospital to hospital, trying to put an end to my physical agony.

When I say this is the best thing that could’ve happened to me, I mean it. Because now I can see and feel God everywhere. I hear him in the silence. When I concentrate, I can hear him in the noise. I haven’t felt his presence nearer to me in the times I have laid on my bed convinced that this would be my last night on earth, than I have in any worship service. I have felt his comfort while I cried from loneliness. I have sensed his guidance as he’s made thoughts clear. I felt his goodness and provision each time a person was generous to me with money, food, or kindness. He has been faithful to me. He is enough. And because he is, although I know that my desires were placed inside me by God, there is no longer room for discontentment in my soul. The Holy Spirit just simply takes up too much space. I will eat my manna and quail daily and sing a song.

I refuse to choke up murmurs.

#contentment #trust

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