A year ago today I wrote these words on Facebook:
“Sitting in Stafford A&E with my wife waiting for her to get a blood transfusion. Even through the fear and worry we can see God's hand in this as it was only by an administrative accident that she was able to get an appointment this morning. She was told previously that she would have to wait 4 weeks for a routine appointment. I pray that God gives the doctors wisdom and guides them in her healthcare, but most of all I trust in His will whatever happens.”
I am encouraged by my own words in the light of my lack of faith today. I have become preoccupied with self doubt and uncertainty. I ask myself if the metaphorical shipwreck I am in is because I am acting like Jonah as opposed to like Paul. Jonah ran into all sorts of trouble because he was going against where God was calling him. Paul on the other hand ran into all sorts of trouble because he was doing the exact opposite, and going exactly where God was calling him. I ask myself where am I actually being called now that I am finally going through the process of immigration here. And while my theology precludes such notions I ask myself, "Am I being punished for doing something wrong?" I find myself asking where am I actually being called to be, and I can't work out of I'm running away from my homeland, or if I'd be running away from my new home if I returned there. I ask myself where I want to be and my only real desire is to go home to the person that was my wife. I find it so incredibly unfair that the desire to be with her while she was still alive was completely in line God's will and His righteousness, but now with the exact same desire to be with her, suddenly I find that in exercising the only power I have, the act of expediting my journey to be with her, is sinful and selfish and cowardly. From my own experience I find myself disheartened by the reassurances that it gets better over time just simply aren't true. The reality is that it gets worse. During the previous periods of time when we were apart the pain and anguish of being separated increased over time it didn't diminish. There was a period of time where I could regard images of her with a deep melancholy but happiness to see her. Now I can't even bear looking at images of her at all being overwhelmed with the prospect of having to live the rest of my life without her, and wishing for that length of time to be short as possible.