Who Do You Say That I Am?

“Now when Jesus came into the district of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” And they said, “Some say John the Baptist, others say Elijah, and others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.” He said to them, “But who do you say that I am?” ~Matthew‬ ‭16:13-15‬                                                                               

It was a day like any other. I did what I did every morning since the pandemic had shifted our daily routine. My youngest daughter’s room had become my quiet place of refuge to seek the Lord in prayer and in the reading of His word. I prayed, read my devotional, and dove right into the chapter of Matthew 16. I had been struggling for a while at that point, but it was an internal battle of turmoil that not many knew about. I couldn’t see any hope of light at the end of what felt like an unending tunnel of darkness. Life hadn’t been anywhere near easy over the past several years, and that pattern didn’t seem to have an ending anywhere in sight. My heart had already been wrung in more ways than words would’ve described at that time. Yet again, more trials were hitting at a rate I couldn’t keep up with. Each new trial had layers of heartache that I just couldn’t make sense of. Many of my closest friends had moved away, other close friendships no longer existed, and I didn’t have a home church anymore. I felt completely isolated and alone.

I hadn’t given up on seeking God, I hadn’t denounced my faith, but I had slowly begun to lose hope inside. My times of prayer and the reading of the Bible had become mixed with debilitating feelings of heartache, abandonment, overwhelming anxiety, and complete fear. I would sit down to read and only feel dread. I felt as though all God would meet me with would be more bad news, more agonizing changes and more disappointment that would only further my confusion and sadness. I couldn’t face one more thing. I felt halfway off the cliff already, and anything more would’ve sent me into an emotional melt down. 

I began reading the first verse of Matthew 16 and continued on. “Okay,” I thought. “I’m reading about the religious leaders and one of their schemes again. Okay, okay, now Jesus is warning His disciples about watching out for the teaching of those same religious leaders. Okay God, I am drowning here, what in the world am I supposed to learn from this?!” I continued on reading, not really believing I would gain much of what I desperately needed or wanted to be applicable to my sorrow and pain. Then, I began reading verse 15. Jesus had been asking His disciples who people were saying He was. After they answered Him, He then asked them who they said He was. There it was…an immediate punch to my stomach. Those red-letter words brought me to a screeching halt. The power of the Holy Spirit was so heavily upon me in that moment. I felt the weight of those words press upon my heart like a ton of bricks, then the truth of the Lord came flooding over me, “Amy…who do you say that I am?” My heart sank, my head dropped, and I burst into a flood of tears. Thought after thought invaded my mind. I grabbed my phone, opened my notes ‘app’, and began typing. I couldn’t pray at that moment; I couldn’t even really speak. I had an answer to that question, but it wasn’t anywhere near pretty or God-glorifying. Nonetheless, it had to come out. I began to type the following words. As days and weeks went by, I added more and more, and really struggled with what I was feeling deep inside. It was my written prayer to God, and at that time, it was the only way I could allow myself to bring it ALL out. These are the words I wrote:

“I say sometimes you’re more wrath and cruel, and unfair in many of your ways.

I say sometimes you don’t care about the suffering of your people, when you don’t stop their pain.

I all too often say that I don’t understand your plan, I don’t understand your sovereignty or the way you deal with man.

I say that your sovereign reign is my deepest wrestle, my deepest longing to reconcile within.

I want so badly to make sense of it, but I just can’t see through my lens.

I say I cannot grasp your love, your mercy, or your care.

The authority of those you’ve placed over me has made me feel so bare.

I say I can’t find my worth in you when everything I am and who you’ve made me is perpetually smashed again and again.

I say I feel like you’re letting me drown, just watching me barely hang on. 

You’re standing so far off from me lately, Father, just tell me what I’ve done wrong?!

I always feel like you’re punishing me, isolating me, and leaving me in constant despair. 

I don’t understand your love for me, which leads to frustration and anger in need of repair.

I’m mad at myself for feeling this way, for having these thoughts of who you are. In the depths of my being I know these are lies, but never, ever have I felt you so far.

I know you’re good, I know you’re love and mercy, but why can’t I know this to the core?

I want so desperately to believe what I know to be true, but Abba, my inner being feels shredded more and more.

I don’t want to believe these lies anymore I don’t want this to be my view of you. I am so desperate for your healing, please, please come and make me healed and new. 

I say you can’t relate to me, you don’t know how to show me love and affection or how valuable I am.

I say you abandon me when I don’t do what you want me to, or when I disappoint you.

I say I’m afraid of you cause I always feel like I’m failing you and not good enough.

I say I don’t have much to give to you because I’m too broken inside and my life is too messy to speak genuinely into the life of anyone.

I say you easily forget about me and leave me to fend for myself and figure it all out on my own.

I say you’re tired of hearing about my pain and agony, and that you want me to “get over it” and move on.

I say my pain is minimal to you because I shouldn’t be allowing it to hurt like this.

I say you’re mad and ashamed of me cause I’m not full of joy, faith, or peace.”

These were some of the hardest words I had ever written. They were excruciating to come to terms with, to admit. On one hand, I knew God already knew them and wouldn’t be surprised by them, but all the same, I was so ashamed to face what I was believing. I had never once thought about that question, and certainly never applied it to myself directly. Yet, in God’s mercy, He had placed it right in front of me. He knew I needed it. He knew this simple question would bring out the very heart of what I was battling against. I had to see what was going on in me beneath the surface. Seeing it was my starting point and writing it out was making it reality in both my heart and mind. Somehow, the purging of getting it all out was already lifting the weight of it all. Little did I know, I was already writing some answers to my own questions. It took days for me to come out of the fog I had been in for so long. It took days for me to not remain in the shock of admitting it to myself, and to God. Days went by, and internally, I began to hear within me, “Amy, these are lies you’ve believed about Me. None of these are who I am. I’m not those who have hurt you. I’m not like them.” There God was again, speaking to me in the quiet when I was laid bare before Him. He was showing me exactly what was going on within me. I had taken every ounce of hurt that someone else had done to me, and translated that to God. I had been viewing Him through the lens of the sin and disappointment of others. I had believed the deep-seeded lies that He was just like those who had wronged me, abandoned me, and crushed me inside. I had believed the lies that He didn’t care about my pain, that He was leaving me to face it all on my own, and tired of hearing about it. I had been deceived by my own unbelief and the enemy’s torment, and it had taken my mind off of the perfect character of God, and placed it on my crumbling circumstances and on those who had repeatedly failed me. Finally, I was seeing the lies, and hearing the truth. Finally, I could breathe again.

God began to slowly unravel my lies and replace them with the truth of who He was. He was lovingly correcting me, but in the gentlest way He knew I needed. He stepped in and began to flood me with His unfailing truth. Weeks, then months went by, and one day, I found myself ready to go back to what I had written in the months prior. I could finally end that note with what I undoubtedly knew to be true…

“I say you love me cause no one else can hear these words, bear this doubt and anger, and still bid me to come to you with arms wide open.”

Truth had been setting me free, and I could now resolve what I had written with the reality of who God really was and had always been. He was faithful. He wasn’t angry and ashamed of me. He was gentle, loving, gracious, forgiving, and He was pleased with me because I was His daughter, His child. I was bought with the blood of His precious Son, and He wasn’t going anywhere. He was right there holding me when I was barely holding on.

“For I, the Lord your God, will hold your right hand, Saying to you, ‘Fear not, I will help you.” ~‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭41:13‬ ‭NKJV‬