The year 2024 was not my year.

Well, not the year I had planned anyway.

In the span of five months, I was dumped by a guy, denied admission to ten graduate schools, headhunted for a job that ended up hiring someone else, and betrayed by a close friend. Overall, a pretty humbling first half of the year.

And the cherry on top was that I planned a silent retreat in Nebraska for September, only to be told I would have to do the retreat in my own apartment because the tornadoes had damaged the house where I was supposed to stay. Even when I was trying to pursue God, I felt stonewalled.

After that phone call, I had a real honest (and loud) chat with God. The phrase that kept running through my mind was the simple question, “God, what are we doing?”

We didn’t seem to be accomplishing anything.

And that wasn’t the only question that I had.

I’ve had people encourage me to write about my faith questions here, but that seems dangerous…

Why? Well, here’s a sample of some questions that keep me up at night. 

What if God doesn’t have good plans for me? What if his good plans are for other people? 

What if the bad things I’ve done, when I knew I shouldn’t do them, have disqualified me from his blessings? Maybe since I was raised in the church, the bar is higher for me and his patience is wearing thin.

Do I really believe the part in Psalm 23 that says “I shall not want?” Because I definitely want sometimes, and I have seen a lot of want on the streets during my travels and in my own hometown. How can I say “I shall not want,” with any real confidence? 

If I don’t feel guilty for doing something, is that because it wasn’t actually sinful or because my conscience is so broken it won’t prick me anymore? Am I too far gone?

Is there a more right way to live? Should I sell everything and just hit the road? Join a convent?

Does God care about what I pray for? Or is he just going about with his will anyway so my prayers are a moot point?

Is God just a cosmic puppeteer who gets bored and decides to shake up people’s lives for the plot?

What if the world is right and we Christians really are to be pitied for wasting our lives following “a good teacher”?

What if I am one of the people Jesus says he never knew at the last day? What if I’m on the wrong side of the parable of the ten virgins and their lamps?

With questions like that rattling around in my head, how can I justify writing a blog about the faith? I have no real wisdom to share with you, no degree in theology, no rudimentary understanding of Greek or Hebrew. I am, for all intents and purposes, unqualified.

That’s why I haven’t written in a long time. Fear has been winning, hands down.

But maybe that’s the whole point. 

It was never supposed to be about me anyway. 

The best strategy for handling blackmail is to remove the power of the threat, generally by sharing the secret or damning information yourself. Kind of like a confession. Once what has been done in darkness is brought to the light, it holds no power over us. 

So here is my confession to you, (all two of my readers)… 

I am not perfect. And I am wrestling with God.

“Yeah, I think we’re all aware of that…” you might say. 

No, I’m not sure you understand the extent. I am a sinner. I screw up on the daily. My words are, more often than not, clanging gongs and cymbals because they are not spoken in love. I went into 2024 screaming at God when I thought him unjust. I am selfish, angry, and self-obsessed. I spent those first nine months of the year moping and truly believing God did not have my good in mind. I hold grudges and sometimes dread talking to people that are excited to talk to me. I still haven’t spoken to the friend that betrayed me. I gossip and curse and pursue all kinds of worldly pleasures that do nothing for my faith. I complain and I am discontent and most of all I’m twenty-five and have no business giving advice to anyone ever because heaven knows I can’t seem to pull my life together so I sure can’t help you out with your own. 

There’s more… but I’m sure you get the idea. 

And now, it holds no power over me. You know I’m not perfect, and that I have spent the last year wrestling with God in some big ways.

And you know what?

He wrestled back. Just like when Jacob wrestled with God, I came out limping. But I came out believing. And that’s what really matters. I have screamed at God and felt like I heard nothing back. But just like when Elijah asked to see God he was not in the fire or the earthquake but in the still, small voice.

I never got an answer to my question, “What are we doing?” I have no idea what path he’s leading me down. I couldn’t clearly explain the why of my disappointments if you cornered me. I’d just shrug at this point, and say, “It’s in his hands.” And even now, I might not say it with a whole lot of confidence.

But I do know that I believe in his love in a bigger way than I did before. I do know that he sent people in my life to love the dickens out of me when I was hurting. I do know that he forgave me when I hit rock bottom of my own volition.

What are we doing? We are wrestling with God. We are working out our own salvation. We are monks amok, praying amidst the chaos, praising amidst the pain, and if it takes shouting at God in your car or begging him for answers late at night or simply sitting with open hands and words obstructed by busy thoughts or sobs… Then he can take it. His patience doesn’t wear thin so easily as our own.

So ask your questions. Write them down. Scream them out. Be angry with God, but don’t stop there. Be stubborn in your faith but not in your sin. Demand your prayers be answered but humbly ask it be according to his will. Chase his light and his love and be ready to receive it because it will be poured out on you in a flood. He can handle it. He will wrestle with you too, and it may leave you limping. But you’ll be walking a straighter path in exchange.

That’s how we earn our name anyway. Israel: one who wrestles with God.

And prevails.