Struggling

I've been hearing a lot about struggling lately. People see or hear that I am struggling with something and they want to help.
So they offer advice.
They offer scripture.
They offer questions that are supposed to challenge me to move beyond the struggle.
They tell me I need to acknowledge and repent of my sin.

I understand that they say these things from their perspective.
From where they are standing all they can see is the straining,
the trembling,
the tears
and the exhaustion.

They are not in my shoes. They do not know my heart.
They don't know the depth,
the height,
the width
of this struggle. This straining. This trembling. These tears and ache.

Their advice, scripture quotes, and questions cause me to pause. Cause me to consider their validity.
So, I asked The One. The One who knows my struggle and my heart better than any.

And in the quiet of this morning, this is what He impressed upon me:

A picture.
Of me, standing on tiptoe, stretching my right hand as far as it will reach.
My fingers spread wide. The tips of my fingers stretching, reaching toward something.
I am yearning to only brush my fingertips across the unseen surface of the desire of my heart.
My calf muscles are stretched and shaking from the strain.
My left arm is thrown out to the side and slightly backward for better balance. It too is trembling.
My face is contorted as I stretch beyond what is comfortable. Tears stream down my face.

And then.

The earth moves out from under me.

And I fall.

When I fall,
I land hard.
I am bruised,
and broken.
My muscles are still trembling from the fatigue of the strain.
I lay in a heap and cry out.
Not only because of the bruises, but also because what was nearly in my grasp,
has been yanked away.

And then God.

He softly reveals that He was the One who moved the earth from under me.
Not because I sinned and not because my desire was sin.
But because His desire for me was greater.
His desire is that I learn to get up.
That I learn to turn to Him, and not others, to heal my bruises and to set my feet under me.
He desires that I not grow weary in well doing.
That I will continue to stretch
and to reach
and to strain
and to struggle
again
and again.

In this, I find myself praising Him.
He has chosen me for this struggle.
I am loved.
I am cherished.
I am His.