This is the next installment in a rather long series about how Daniel and I met–and have become engaged. Click on the “Our Story” tag for context.
It wasn’t until after we’d hung up that the doubts swarmed through my head.
Desperate for reassurance, I sent Daniel a text, saying nothing of my current turmoil, but thanking him for listening.
I carried my cell phone from Bunco table to Bunco table as I filled in for a missing player, waiting with increasing anxiety for the text that would ease my doubts, remind me of his love.
The text didn’t come. Daniel had his own activities that night, so I was left with my anxious thoughts.
I spent the evening putting a brave face over my inner struggle, smiling and nodding as my sister exulted in telling her coworkers and friends about my new beau.
Insecure. I felt insecure.
Not because I doubted Daniel’s love. Not even because I doubted that I loved him.
I felt insecure in my own ability to love.
That afternoon, I’d told Daniel about a couple of my past relationships, how I’d been heavily invested in each, how my mind had run on ahead of where the relationship actually was.
In the midst of the conversation, I was fine. I wanted Daniel to know me–my past and my present (and I wanted him to be my future.) I loved that we didn’t conceal anything from one another.
I wanted to share. It was right to share.
It’s just that now, recounting the conversation in my mind, I felt exposed.
How could I even think I could tell Daniel how I felt about him when my feelings had obviously led me astray before?
How did I know that I was not just a flighty thing, in love with being in love?
Now, when this wasn’t like the other times, when the love was mutual, how could I be sure that I wouldn’t let him down? How could I be sure that I actually could love him like I wanted to love him?
I wanted Daniel there beside me, wanted to share my current struggle with him, wanted his reassurance.
I wrote in my journal: “But he isn’t here and my heart is sick and I feel so insecure. Lord, I need You.”
In God’s mercy, Daniel was busy that night. He didn’t see my text until almost midnight.
Daniel not responding forced me into the arms of God–and I am so thankful.
God is my hiding place.
It’s a reality God has reiterated over and over again in the course of my relationship with Daniel.
So many times, I have wanted to run first to Daniel with my struggles, with my sorrows, with my sin. with my excitement. But in God’s great mercy, He has caused many of those things to happen when I couldn’t run directly to Daniel. I was forced to go first to God–and what a wonderful thing that is.
The truth is that Daniel can not bear my burdens. He cannot be my all in all. He cannot be my peace and my security.
I can take joy in Daniel’s love, but it is not his love that saves me. It is God’s love that rescues.
I am learning that once I have hidden myself in God, my sharing with Daniel is so much sweeter, so much greater.
I still share my heart with Daniel-my sorrows, my struggles, my sin–but it is no longer to dump them on him, expecting him to solve things he cannot solve, expecting him to bear burdens he cannot bear. Instead, I share them so that we, together, can cast our shared burdens on the Lord. I share them so that we, together, can go to the throne of grace.
I share them so that we can hide together in Christ.
(By the way, in another testament to the goodness of God–when I have circumvented this and run to Daniel first? Daniel has led me to the perfect place–right back to the throne of grace, right back to the Lover of my Soul. I am so blessed to have a man who loves for me to be hidden in Christ.)