Emotional Vertigo

Just One Day

Theology in the Trenches

by Kathleen Kjolhaug

Just one day Lord, I’m hanging on…by a thread. But, You’ve got this. It’s another day to trust. I can’t…You can. Sometimes I wonder if I can (hang on that is) and soon I realize I can’t…but You can.

The waters rise and when they do, I know You’ve got this. I paddle as if I can steer up stream and soon find the stream is steering me. I look ahead and point the way, but I can’t seem to steer clear. “This way?” I shout. “Or is it that?” I know not. I thought I did. I can’t see Lord, but You can.

I like to prepare for what’s ahead so my heart is a bit ready when the sands shift because simply put, I don’t like surprises that pummel. We’re just not made for so many to march parade style full blast. I want to breathe between shifts. I need to absorb slowly that which was and is and is to come. When there isn’t time, I feel weak. Absorbing is not one of my strengths. Depending upon Your shield of faith, I must confess, is the only rest I find useful in the middle of the muddle. God knows I can’t….He can.

“When I am weak, He is strong” (2 Corinth. 12:10) is my only steadfast anchor. My goodness but I must be bursting with strength these days as the weakness racks my bones, and the ship I sail feels more like a raft blown round and about. Anyone else having one of those days, weeks, months or years? “Count it all joy,” (James 1:2) He says. I can’t…He can.

Just when the dust settles and the pathway looks somewhat recognizable, the rains come and the dust turns to mud as the slipping and sliding begin once again. I’m not on solid ground at all. My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus blood and righteousness. The verse repeats itself within. I pray, and now I must practice what is prayed. As I try clinging to Him, I can’t…He can.

I am still. You say, “Be still and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10). Yet, as I still, my stomach churns. Emotional vertigo sets in, and I am spinning. What is so difficult? I suppose I can’t see what You can. You are at the helm with a panoramic view of what was and is and is to come. With broad brush like strokes you are creating a master piece of that which I am not even a droplet of paint.  At best perhaps a tiny hair bristle upon that brush which brings life upon your canvass is what I am. I am so honored for You are I Am. I am nothing. You are. I am not.

Yet, being able to breathe deeply the sorrow which seems to pierce from all around is joy. What an honor to be even a part of your creation as you create master pieces of which I know nothing of. I can’t see Lord, You can. In this my joy. In this my strength.

“The joy of the Lord is my strength” (Nehemiah 8:10). Amen.