My sensor is broken.

Transition is a pesky thing. I think I mentioned this approaching season in a post from a couple of months back. It’s the “night” time, so to speak, between the sun setting on one season and rising on another. I’m there right now, and it feels a little bit dark at times.

Life is kind of crazy for us right now. It feels like when you’re first learning to drive and you aren’t used to the sensitivity of your brakes yet. So you accelerate, and then you come to an abrupt stop. (Over and over until you finally start to feel natural) Meanwhile mom is in the passenger seat about to lose her lunch.

We’re in town on the weekdays, working full time and trying to adjust to a different pace of life from the craziness of our training school year. But on the weekends, we’re going to weddings and visiting family and celebrating our anniversary somewhere in there. We aren’t home on a weekend until mid July. So we have these two different speeds that we keep going back and forth from. Fast paced weekend, then slam the brakes and try to slow down during the week. I feel emotionally car sick.

Finally last week I reached a breaking point, and I was about ready to lose the little bit of sanity that still remained. (OK, or maybe I did lose it a little bit) Misfiring with spousal  communication led to frustration that finally made me go for a drive to get some space. I cried the ugly kind of cry that makes you thankful you’re driving at night and not in the daylight, and I cried out to God wondering how I got to this place of complete chaos. 

And then I realized, this is what the enemy does. Here I am in the night time season of transition, isolated. He comes to steal, kill and destroy. Righteous anger began to bubble inside of me. “Oh, hell no,” I said out loud, driving around Waco and fighting evil in a more real way than any Marvel movie character ever has. And I finished that verse that had come to mind, “…but Jesus came that I may have life abundantly.”

And I don’t always understand what that’s supposed to mean, this idea of life abundant, but I know that when my thoughts are taken captive by evil and not by grace, I feel cheated. But when my thoughts are taken captive by the Grace Giver, well, I feel complete. And there’s always grace.

All is grace.

Ann Voskamp says there’s always a well. All is well.

I came home and the deep well of grace that is my husband was waiting to reconcile our frustration with one another. “I think we started fighting each other instead of fighting the one attacking us, and we just needed to go back to our respective corners to figure that out,” he said as those pretty blue eyes stared into my soul, saying without words that no dark place will ever be able to separate us.

There was an intruder in the boxing ring. But wait, what the heck are we doing in a boxing ring and why are we in opposite corners?

I guess life with Jesus is a fight. And somehow marriage ups the ante and makes Satan fight harder. 

Well, since we seem to be doing everything on the run these days, we didn’t have much time to recover from that night. We drove straight to Little Rock the next day for my best friend’s wedding. And my emotions are feeling like when you pull a muscle but the team still needs you, so you just wrap it up, lather it with Biofreeze and keep playing. Still sensitive to the challenging season I’m in, the enemy kept throwing punches.

I kept wondering how to find God in all this, if He was on this roller coaster too. I resolved that I suppose He is, and I suppose He knows where we’re going, and all I’m supposed to do is keep walking and talking with him. After all, Abram didn’t really know where he was going, but it says that he believed God and it was counted to him as righteousness. (Gen. 15:6)

He believed God, and God declared him set right. 

That’s all I have to do? It’s so… simple. Just believe that what He says is true, and be obedient.

And as we were driving back from Little Rock the car started shaking, and we had to pull in to Walmart and have it looked at. Something about a sensor going out and spark plugs misfiring, and I thought, “Well this is ironic.”

God always seems to speak in parallels to me, connecting what’s going on in the spiritual to what’s happening in the natural so I can finally get it. Maybe I need to start catching on sooner. Nonetheless, my sensor had been broken. And when I stop paying attention and sensing his presence in all circumstances, I get shaky. Just like my car.

Maybe the mechanic can fix both of us?

Or maybe I’ll just cling to the verse that’s gotten me through so many of these kinds of seasons, “I have set the Lord always before me; because he is at my right hand, I shall not be shaken.” (Psalm 16:8)