Stage 4 Discontentment

            One day a couple of weeks ago, in the early morning’s light, I found myself in a place as if my life had come to an extraordinarily serious scene in a drama, one where the limelight illuminates the main character and everything else is forgotten in the shadows. I sat down Indian-style on my front porch with my Beatles coffee mug in hand, took a deep breath in, and searched for words to say to my Saviour. After a few moments of choking up and not being able to express myself to Him verbally, I began to bawl.

            Over the past few months, I've been frustrated and discontented with the hand that life has dealt me. Instead of giving those things to God and letting Him heal me, I let them callous my heart because I didn't want to get hurt again. With every obstacle that I've ever faced in my life, it didn't really snap until dad died back in April. With his departure, the questions rolled in. Why would I be the kid who got sexually abused, lost a brother, was abandoned by too many “best friends” to count, and lost her dad? Wouldn't one tragedy be enough? How many more awful things are going to happen? For what seemed like the first time in my life, I had started counting my struggles and ignoring my blessings. The tally board was heavily unbalanced, leaning on the side of wow-my-life-sucks.

Going back to that particular morning, I had sat down to question why I was losing my passion to worship God. I couldn't stand to live another day of my heartbeat symbolizing nothing more than blood being pumped through my veins when it used to mean so much more. So, on that morning, as I had begun to stumble over my words in my prayer to God, I heard my diagnosis. Stage 4 Discontentment, a diagnosis that, without prayer, humility, and brokenness, was also the prognosis. God said, “I had to bring you to the point of discontentment to get you to move.” (It seems that it isn't until we figure out just how finite we are that we actually even have the ability to become someone greater. Until life wears us down to our core, we usually live a life that doesn't even scratch the surface of what we were made to be.) Once hearing my diagnosis, I had two options: I either give up and live a sour life of “woe is me,” or I lay down my pride, perception, and thoughts at the cross and allow God to show me why I should be grateful. For me, giving up is never an option, so through my bowing and crying for God, I laid those things down. I asked for Him to show me the absolute awesomeness of having salvation and to show me just how incredibly blessed I really am.

This was my prayer for nothing short of a miracle.

Ever since that prayer, I have found salvation to be more amazing and have seen the trillions of blessings that I have just even in a few weeks’ time. Not only have I noticed my blessings more, but the problems that I once held in my hands against my heart because I was too afraid of life without them have melted away. For example, when I look back at the day I was first abused, I don’t say, “I am an abuse victim.” Instead, I say, “I have been through abuse.” I no longer keep my past hurts and failures close to my heart, but rather, I like to keep them in my testimony, the only place that they can serve anyone any good.

I have a God who cannot be contained and who loves me more than I’ll ever be able to imagine. I have family and friends who are insanely supportive and who are passionate for me. I don’t go without any of my needs or even many of my wants. I've been blessed with the ability to sing and play guitar. God gave me a hilarious but caring personality. I feel the invigorating beauty of life in the air that fills my lungs, in the view of the autumn leaves falling, in the heart-embracing hugs from those I love, and in the sweet moments of just being with my Saviour. I see how gorgeous life really is, even with its contrast of light and darkness, and I say to myself, “I am content.”