Attacks Against Hope

Every so often I am struck by an attack of immense fear: that I will be left on my own without what I need, that I will be too sick to work and will have no income, that I will be alone forever – never get married. Essentially, I fear that I will use up my quota of God’s love and He will freeze my account.

In a way it’s logical. God has given me an extravagant amount of love, has cared for me since before I can remember and I have no memory of a time when He wasn’t with me. I know how very fortunate I am. More than once, I’ve been closer than a hair’s breadth away from death and he has saved me. I’ve wasted time and opportunities and money and he has never stopped providing for me. I’ve been stupid and committed stupid sins that have hurt me and others and, I believe, have simply mocked and ignored the love He has lavished upon me. At some point, you’d think He’d tell me that I’ve reached the end of my allotment.

This seems a good time for that to happen. This is a time of great change for me; I try to pretend otherwise but I’m really, really sick and that means I must accept change. Facing a year or more out of work is scary, very scary. Yes, I have an excellent disability policy but what if…? With all the craziness in the world, there are just too many possibilities for me to choose one and fill in that question. And what about being alone? How do I meet people, how do I get married stuck here in my apartment? And I could easily come up with a whole host of horrible possibilities. I shan’t because just writing about my fear, and just talking with a friend, which I did (and Fallen Sparrow is a very good friend), makes me see how silly I am being, makes me see that this is indeed an attack.

My fear limits God’s love and that’s just silly. That must be of Satan. I’ve not been given a spirit of fear but of hope and everything I’ve been reading lately from Spe Salvi to Magnificat to rereading the Bible beginning with Genesis (I’m in Leviticus now) reminds me to hope. My entire life has been filled with hope, with the reality that hope brings – not anything bright and flashy, with fake columns (though I do have my ornate side) but simply grace that has sustained me through the valley of the shadow of death and beyond.

It turns out, I haven’t that kind of power, the kind that can use up God’s love. I’m not that big and I really don’t want to be. I am amazingly silly and God continues to love me and care for me anyway. Who am I to argue with His wisdom?