God, Help Me Trust YOU.

January 8, 2011
She didn’t know what to do anymore. She didn’t know how to handle it. She was crying to herself every night lying in bed, trying every possible answer, trying to justify to herself why he had become this way. He used to be better… before the fighting, before the drugs, before the alcohol. This other girl, she thought, had ruined his life. She had stolen his soul straight out of his body and fed it to the devil with the way they now act and live. But am I partially to blame, because I led him straight to her in a sense? My own selfishness and unhappiness led her to him. If only I could have been different. But she never had to be different. Things always happen for a reason. That’s what she believes. But still she quietly mumbles to herself, “If I had held my voice down, if I hadn’t gotten that angry, if I had been more caring to his fragile feelings, would things have been different? Would we still be together?”

See, there had been a time when they were madly in love. Or so they thought. Teenage love: is it real love or just infatuation? But she knows she truly loved him. She knows she still does to an extent, but the love had morphed, changed in a sense. She loves him a different way than she once did. She feels that the love she feels now is a less selfish love, maybe even more powerful somehow. It is energized not by wanting him, but wanting the best for him. Before, all she wanted was her own way. She wanted to be first. But now, this girl, she didn’t want that anymore. She wanted his happiness back.
“Did I truly take it from him?” She said a little louder to no one in particular as she sat up in bed. She gazed at the blank wall in front of her where all of his pictures had once been. “We only get one chance to make things the way they are, I guess. I can’t believe I was so ignorant before. I thought I was living to make him happy, but that wasn’t the case most of the time. I feel so ashamed that I ever thought that I was living my life the way I should’ve been,” she finished. She thought about how she was always starting fights with him and living impure, and shook her head in disgust with herself.

She recalled the night she met him. He seemed so mysterious, and she was intrigued, and the more she got to know him along that night, the more intrigued she became. It seemed surreal. He barely left her side.

“I never expected him to stay around that long,” she spoke and a small tear escaped her eye and slid down her warm cheek. She wrinkled her nose and giggled awkwardly in memory. He caught me so off guard, she thought. “He just seemed like a normal 19 year old boy. I was sure he would lose interest fast and move on.” But he was different, and that made her happy. He actually loved her and cared about her feelings and wanted nothing more than to make her happy. “Back in those days,” she whispered and managed a small smile as another tear fell.
Back in those days, he believed in God, and that was the problem now. This was mainly the reason she lay awake crying at night. You could often find her praying. She prayed for him, mostly. She prayed for herself frequently too, for the reason that she needed to let go of him. She has not yet learned how to trust God will do his duty and lead this lost boy back into His arms once again.
“But if I let go he will have NO ONE,” she softly yelled at the ceiling. She thought of all of his former friends who had cared about him and loved him. His friends back from his “better” times. They gave everything for each other to support one other in their walk with God. “He was happy then. He was good,” she spoke in a softer voice yet again. But he had given those friends up. She wiped a few fallen tears from her chin and cheeks and sniffled, “I just wish somehow I could make him see that. That he was better. He will always be better off with God, than what he’s doing now.”

You see, now, he is of legal age at 21 to drink and party. So is the other girl, although she is a bit older at 22 years old. She has openly admitted to have been drinking and partying since adolescence. Not the best choice in friends, she thought, but he’s happy on the outside for now.

She knew he was crumbling on the inside. He was crumbling like a poorly constructed cookie. But he was no poorly made cookie, and she knew that. He was a work of art, because God Himself had created this boy. He was beautiful in His eyes, as is everyone else, but to make the young man see that was, it seemed, the biggest chore this young lady had signed up for in a long time.

They used to attend church together, until things started getting complicated between them. They fell out of touch with the church and tried to live on their own terms, but it came falling down like a tower. They began fighting almost daily. This is only where it started. The fights became more frequent and at a higher rage each and every time. It wasn’t long before the fights started getting physically abusive as well as mentally and emotionally. This couple no longer played fair. Though they still loved each other, they hated each other as well. But they had been together so long that they figured they could change; they could fix it. They didn’t know how hard it would be without God, and God was no longer anywhere present in their relationship.
They eventually were legally told they could not contact each other. The fights had gotten that bad. But this couple was so stubborn, and against the wishes of friends and family, and even the law, they kept talking. They were no longer dating, but it seemed nothing had changed. They still said “I love you” every day. They figured they could wait out this whole legal mess and become a couple once again, but it would be different since they would’ve had enough time “apart” to not fight anymore. Boy, where they wrong.

During their legal separation, the boy seemed obligated to hang out with some of the friends he had started neglecting during the hectic relationship. In comes, the new girl, the other girl, but at this time she was the girlfriend of his best friend. In a nutshell, some borders were crossed and fingers were pointed, and more relationship casualties resulted. But this was not before the boy had been wrapped up into his non-Christian –living friend’s world. The boy was now, under aged and hooked on a life of partying which he gave up cold turkey for his recently lost love.

And now, the easily manipulated boy is legally able to drink. But the boy even had the nerve to try drugs, regardless that when he was dating the girl, he built a strong hatred for the like of such abuse. She looks down and her hands and remembers the day he picked up the courage to tell her what he had done. She still feels betrayed. But she forgave him, because she knows mistakes are made by everyone. It's a learning process, she thought. Needless to say, it still crosses the girl’s mind every night, about what her dear friend is doing to occupy his time. She tries to forget the nights that he doesn’t call or message just to say hi and tell her what he’s up to and if he’s doing okay. But there is no need for me to know, she thinks. I would love to know that he’s not wasting his time and money on silly things like nights at the bar that he will soon forget. But no such relief comforts her when she hears nothing.

He has taken to rebuke her when she tries to preach to him delicately. She forgives him for being stubborn and prays he will someday listen to her thoroughly and stops refusing the hand of the Lord in his life. This girl is frightened by the thought that enters her mind when she things of his soul.
“I don’t want you to go to hell.” She bluntly says in the dead of night, hoping that he was here once again to listen to her. “I just wish you would stop refusing the name of your God. Satan has his hold on you and it’s scaring me. You know you’re much better than this. You know you can do better than you’ve ever done before. All you have to do is try. I know it’s hard, but you just have to keep getting back up.” She remembers that she has said this to him more than once. When will he finally take it to heart and listen to her words? “I don’t know,” she whispers.

So for now, this girl is stuck writing at 2:00 a.m.; writing her story on paper, for perhaps no one to read them or understand it. Writing seems the only way she can seem to get the emotions, other than screaming, and she didn’t think that the neighbors would appreciate that.

She is stuck crying herself to sleep most nights, praying that someday they will both find comfort in their Savior’s arms, and she’ll fully trust Him and His ways. She prays she’ll find peace and know the boy that she delicately but strongly cares about will find the reassuring presence of Jesus Christ in his heart again someday very soon.

All she has ever wanted these past many months has been his true happiness, and she’s now stuck trying to fight the need to be his savior.

“Jesus, just please, give me the strength to let go of this need. YOU are the only way he will ever become whole again, and I want to be done trying to lead this stubborn horse to water. I want to trust that You will allow him to see that if he drinks, he will have eternal life with You.
















Please, help me trust You.”





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