Zero Things Right
About three years ago, I was standing nearby my three oldest boys as they were having a conversation about the song “One Thing Right” by Kane Brown and Marshmello, and the meaning of its lyrics. After a few entertaining moments from listening to each of their comments, I chimed in to help clarify, “He’s singing about a girl.”
Logan (only five-years-old at the time) replied, “I’m gonna sing about a boy and girl someday – ‘I got zero things right.’”
He spoke with such confidence, as if he could see into the future. And I’m confident that had I been drinking orange juice in that very moment, it would have come out burning through my nose.
Oh my goodness! You’re only five, son. But welcome to the club.
Here’s the thing: JP and I just celebrated 18 years of marriage last week. And I’m proud of that. I love him more than I can articulate in a quick blog, and he loves me, well, like Jesus does. He is full of grace, compassion, and patience for me that I have done nothing to deserve. He is also committed to never leaving or forsaking me, which is not only rare in this world, but given our personal past and the specifics of our current circumstances, it is incomprehensible. I’d say I got it right when I married him. And at just two years into our marriage, I confessed to JP an affair I’d had with his best friend and then fought for my marriage with every ounce of my being from that point on. Despite all my obvious wrongdoing, I got the repentance part right. Then, God put it on my heart to write a book, which includes how God restored and redeemed our marriage and has blessed us immensely ever since. Despite the battle it’s been to start and finish the book, I’m convinced I got that right, too. But in the last several months, I’ve been realizing how much I still got wrong, how much I didn’t see or understand in years past, and how much healing God is continuing to do in me in places I thought were already healed. So, sometimes it can feel like we got zero things right, even when things are good, even when we’ve done the best we can, or at least, the best we knew how.
I thought I was done writing my book, and truly, the editing process is so close to completion. In recent weeks, however, God has made it clear to me that the story is still being written, that I can’t leave it the way it is, that I need to add more.
Seriously, God? I don’t want to.
Writing a couple more chapters may not sound like much, and it shouldn’t be when you’ve already written over 66,000 words. What’s a few thousand more, right? But it’s a lot when God’s leading you to go somewhere you don’t want to go, to share things you don’t want to admit, and to try to explain complicated and painful things you don’t even fully understand. Trust me, it’s a lot.
I want to quit. So much. I want to leave the book the way it is, call it “good enough,” and run in the opposite direction. You see, I didn’t want to write this book to begin with (which I explain in great detail in the book and will make sense when you read it). And there have been countless times I’ve wanted to quit. Never have I wanted to quit more than now, though.
It’s too painful. I’m too broken, God. I can’t write that.
Yet, every time I mumble those words, God’s reply is, “Why not? It’s my book, not yours. What if the reason you still feel broken is because you’ve been refusing to write it?”
Regardless of the peace He’s given me to move forward, I still cry back, “I don’t want to.”
But the truth is, I know I’m not going to quit. I know that God is with me and that I do not need to be afraid or discouraged (Matthew 1:23; Joshua 1:9). I know that God is the One who does the work through me anyway, and He is faithful to carry it out to completion (Philippians 2:13; Philippians 1:6). I know that I am dearly loved by my Creator and that all His commands are trustworthy (Colossians 3:12; Psalm 119:86). I know I’m going to finish what I started and hold onto Luke 18:1, when “Jesus told his disciples a parable to show them that they should always pray and not give up.”
I am hopeful that some will relate and be encouraged by what I’m about to add to the book. Still, I know others will only judge and never understand. That’s okay, too. Everything I’ve gotten wrong, God is faithful to redeem. Isaiah 61:3 tells us that the Lord gives beauty for ashes. That’s His specialty. And it’s beyond glorious.
So, I’ll stop procrastinating and start writing, even though I feel like I have more questions than answers and more pain than healing. I will keep trusting in God’s faithfulness and sovereignty. And I will keep believing in His love and providence – more than anything else.
