Tainted Trust

Lesson: Holding On to that Ounce of Faith

Honestly, I hate summer. I know that’s weird. It’s supposed to be the season of freedom—free from mounds of obligation and allotted the time necessary for reprieve in order to start afresh in the fall. But summer has never been that for me.

As a young, elementary-school-kid, I remember getting depressed whenever I’d hear my teachers mention “summer vacation”. Not because I would miss my friends and I’d miss school—I didn’t have many friends and I didn’t care much for school. I just knew that during my “summer vacation” there would be no vacation. Slightly irritated, I would correct them in my head: “You mean summer break.”

I’ve grown accustomed to never being able to get away from the stresses that seem to constantly plague my life, but that isn’t what bothers me anymore—not that much at least. What makes me hate summer is having to go through the gruesome fluidity of nonsense. I long to return to the only sense of freedom I’ve ever had. Freedom to live in a habitable environment. Freedom to structure my own life. Freedom to structure my own place for worship and peace. Freedom to structure my time to do what’s best without it being imposed upon. Freedom to structure my finances—10% to support the church, 5% to assist in missions and other ministries, 20% to save, 65% to cover bills, food, laundry, gas, maybe a few wants, and frugally still save beyond that initial 20%.

As you can see, I love structure. Without it, my sanity is completely blown. Friends have always jokingly said I have OCD. I’ve never taken that seriously, but I’m starting to think it could be a possibility.

Problems at Home the Place I’m Staying

When I started college, I felt like I finally had a voice. What I thought finally mattered, and I was taken seriously (beyond the “holier than thou” accolades I’ve never really cared for). If I’m honest, summer feels like I’m slowly floating in an empty tube through unseizable depths of time. Linear nothingness. My thoughts don’t matter here. All of my endless toil and studying of scripture doesn’t matter here—the situations are out of my control, and you can’t change people.

At home—the place I’m staying, I mean (I never call this place home)—everything is futile. Nothing is taken care of. I can’t be too specific, but this isn’t God’s plan! Yet, I’m asked to cater to such ridiculousness and bend—sacrificing what I believe and what I’ve worked so hard to abide by in exchange for things that are completely unacceptable and don’t make sense. I won’t bend. Not for anyone.

Last summer, I gave my all to helping better this situation. It didn’t work. Why? Because no one here listens to Christian. No one ever appreciated what I did. I did some similar things this summer. But I guess in all my moments of going over and above, I “don’t do my part.”

Heart-Wrenching Truth

I’ve never wanted to just get away from my family. We’re incredibly close—closer than any family I’ve ever seen. I love that. I love them. But I’m fed up. If I could stay somewhere else, I wouldn’t think twice. I hate it here. I hate summer.

Why, God?

Sorry to be so vague. I’m trying to say as much as I can to get this off my chest. I have homework due in 2 hours, but my mind is trapped—just like every other Sunday night. Why couldn’t I stay somewhere else? Why God?

I try to work hard to get away from this environment. That’s another problem. I’m gone too much. I don’t consider others. I don’t contribute. No, my contributions just weren’t enough. At the end of the day, I have to return anyway, and the vicious cycle repeats itself all over again; except, it’s gotten worse.

Despite the story that prefaced this post, I didn’t always hate summers. It’s true, my summers have never been that grandeur high that most people’s summers consist of, but that wasn’t the most important thing to me. I’ve only been completely repulsed by the idea of summer since last year. A very significant family event happened prior to that summer that altered the way my life had been for all its previous years. To tell the truth, that moment should have never happened—at least not yet. But no one listens to Christian.

An Ounce of Hope

No need to drag the issue out any further. I believe something good will come out of this. No, that’s not true. I partially believe something good will come out of this. I don’t always have the faith I should. A large part of me sees this entire predicament as beyond repair. People make dumb decisions, they’re inappreciative, and they don’t consider wisdom. However, a very small part of me is desperately hanging on, clinging to this hem of faith with my last two fingers. God, if you don’t do it, this whole thing will fall apart. Everything will.

The good thing is, God doesn’t need me in order to work. My faith is not the fuel to his abilities although we teach that nonsense all the time. Moses didn’t have faith. The disciples, at many times, didn’t have faith. Heck, Paul, at the beginning of his Christian journey did not have faith. That’s why God gets the glory for all the accomplishments of these incredible men of God.

I put this entire situation completely in God’s hands—the disarray, the stupidity, the insulting lies that overlook all I’ve done over the past 2 years, the pointless arguments, the egoism, the lack of consideration of what makes sense, the lack of standards, the lack of progress, the lack of leadership, the lack of any biblical interactions, I can go on.

Though my weary eyes can’t see

My faith says I believe

I will not lose hope God

I’ve spent years in the night

But in Christ I’m still alive

This did not defeat me, oh no

-Christian Sanders

God, I don’t understand your plan, but I’m going to trust that it’s right. I hate having to deal with this. It hurts, but I’m going to rest in your will. I’ll be okay. Fall is just around the corner. Lord, please give me freedom in this.