let God protect you

thoughts about meeting people you wish you never did

Sweet nothings and all the like. Compromise that you would shun from anyone else, but for them, it’s different. Mornings that are seemingly fixed by seeing the shape of their name on your phone, and a deep darkness when you no longer see it.

It’s all rubbish, anyway, and I wish I had never met him. And I told him that, and that probably wasn’t very nice.

Compromise is a sharp-toothed beast. It will make you okay with being the most disobedient and miserable version of yourself, willing to put yourself in positions that you typically wouldn’t, and then say thank you for harming me. It was an honor.

It’s in moments like those that I wonder exactly what God thinks of me then. Once, I told Him, “I’m sure You must really feel bad for me”, and shortly after, found the verse, Psalm 103:13, that says, “As a father pities his children, so the Lord pities those who fear Him.” My soul recognized that.

No matter how many bad situations I get myself into, the process is always the same. It’s exhilarating in the beginning, blinds me to a degree, makes me mildly oblivious to rationalize and think this feeling makes sense, and it could last. Holy Spirit lives in me, though, so He continues to be the still, small Voice telling me to opt out.

I don’t. I continue along, and He gets louder, I get sad, I feel the wages of sin becoming death manifest. And by the kindness of God, I feel like David in Psalm 31, and my whole body and soul become so downtrodden and exhausted, the only choice I have is to go home. So I do, until I get myself into another situation.

By this point, I’m dry, angry, and disappointed. I’ll ruminate.

I wish I had never met him, I wish I never met him, I wish I never met him.

All the while, God was simply trying to save me, and I wouldn’t let Him. I’d even pray amidst the turmoil, God, I know in some part of me this is no good, please help me out of here. And true to His word in 1 Corinthians 10:13, He creates a way of escape—even if that means being ghosted.

God is kind and is more concerned with the state of my soul in the long run, rather than I am, and Jesus is the Brother Who comes and picks you up from the party when it goes south.

How I long to just let Him protect me from the jump. Wisdom is knowledge applied, and it feels so absurd to know so much and act righteously so little. I imagine I must be one of the silliest and foolish daughters God has in His home. I’m so judgmental, hypocritical, and infuriated with the adulterer when I am her. Hosea’s wife, God’s beloved, with a face turned away. But He is always trying to protect me, always trying to keep me, all because He wants me. And that is a mystery in and of itself.

God, only God truly knows the number of times I’ve met someone I’m sure might not have even been His will at all. A hungry woman, affection-starved, decides her god will be her belly for a while. All worked up over something so optional—God never even told us we had to get married, and yet it somehow manages to become the cornerstone of my idols and temptations; so much so that I am willing to not let my own Father protect me.

Oh, deliver me, Jesus. Always told that He is enough, but at what point do I live like I am a woman convinced? Constantly making myself hard in the heart and jaded, and tired because I tread on my feet where they should not be. And again and again, merciful Abba does the clean up. Gleefully, willfully, lovingly. So that maybe next time, I won’t have to say “I wish I never met you.”

With love,

Rebecca