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How Much Do I Need God?
by Jennifer Mobbs
3/25/2014 / Testimonies
I am shaking, sweating and completely frustrated. I just went through another test. I I can't keep from crying, I wonder if the Doctors understand how humiliating and difficult some of these tests are. I know the end goal is to help me, but the technician was so "matter-of-fact" almost making fun of the situation, she laughed when I didn't understand part of the instructions for the next set of tests I had to take. I know they see a lot of sick people but what happened to compassion. In all my frustration I want to say something, but nothing comes out of my mouth. I just leave the hospital lab feeling like all this is futile. I am struggling with my emotions and I know I have to calm down, but I am so, so tired. I just want to be normal; I just want to live like a normal person.
As I leave the lab, I don't look up as I pass other people in the hallways; I have crawled into myself to hide. I don't want to give in to this sadness I feel right now, please God help me not to cry because of fear and frustration but to rejoice, I got through one more set of tests, I am no worse for the wear and I can now go on with my day.
But the minute I get into my car to leave the parking garage of the hospital I can feel that cloud hanging over me and in a split-second I decide to give in to my self-pity. Perfect timing for my mind to construct a multiple of issues for me to worry about. I run everything I did through my checklist of "what ifs". Did I complete the test properly, will I find out anything or will it be another dead end. How long will I have to wait for an answer. What if the technician doesn't handle the test samples correctly. Within ten minutes I have myself running in a circle of doubt I am about to have a complete emotional meltdown. Why did I let my peace go and why did I decide that I was in control and not God.
I am caught between where I am and where I could be if I would only let God do the worrying.
When I got up this morning, I knew where I was going and what I had to do, did I stop and pray about it, did I ask God for His strength and His peace to guide me through another procedure? Did I even ask God to be with me and give me favor with those I would encounter today at the hospital, I mean they are the ones with the sharp instruments in their hands; or did I just get up and go without spending a few minutes in prayer first. Obviously, I know the answer to that question. I do feel God is with me always, where ever I go. But just like going some where with a friend. I can't get in a car to go shopping with someone and not speak to him or her, or acknowledge his or her presence. I doubt we would be friends very long if I didn't ask them their opinion or help while shopping. Why should I think it's any different with God? I walk around knowing He is in my heart, but am I talking to Him? Am I in constant communication with Him? I realize He knows all and is aware of how I feel, but that doesn't release me from going to Him with my words, my prayers.
I think it's that continual communication with God that makes Him so real, so present in our lives, just like a friend you see, you walk with, He is our friend, our constant companion, our need for Him should consume us. I don't want to only need God when I feel I can't handle something. I want to need Him every second of every moment of every hour, of every day of my life. Because the truth is I do, I do need God that much and more.
With all that is happening now in this world, and all that is happening in my small world God is the part that makes living worthwhile. When I sit back and look at the past 51 years, I see how much my need for God has always been there and how much more peace I could have had, if I had only talked to Him everyday not just in times of trouble.
By the time I have reached my house and parked in the driveway, I am singing an old hymn, knowing that reaching for God has saved me from myself once again. "Oh Sacred Head now wounded with grief and shame way down, now scornfully surrounded with thorns Thine only crown. How art Thou pale with anguish with sore abuse and scorn, how Doth that visage languish which once was bright as morn. What language shall I borrow to thank Thee Dearest Friend for this Thy dyeing sorrow, Thy pity without end. Oh make me Thyne forever, for shouldist I fainting be, Lord let me never, ever, out live my love for Thee."
I have been writing all my life, I just didn't realize it until I was my late 40's. I hope my experiences can help others who have gone through similar trials.
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