Excuse Me, I Didn’t Sign Up for This

Blog / Produced by The High Calling
Excuse Me, I Didn’t Sign Up for This

Blogger Heather Enright notes that the life expectations we hold onto can begin to mock and even depress us. In "Excuse Me, I Didn't Sign Up for This," she encourages readers, "One day, all that has victimized you will be turned into eternal victory."

It may feel like a Friday to you. The skies are growing dark, hope is dying, and your world feels shaky. Things are NOT as you expected.

It may feel like this is the farthest thing from your expectations. Sunshine and roses and ease and comfort and everything just as you had planned. That is what you signed up for. The happily ever after. Married and kids and good times. Hallmark moments.

But instead, it's struggles and frustrations. Battles financially, relationally, and spiritually. A career that is not like you expected. Hard bosses and co-workers. Hard jobs that drag you out of bed, with nothing to look forward to. No Cinderella and Prince Charming. No marital paradise. Just dishes and laundry and busy calendars and fatigue. My gosh. The fatigue. Just tired. All. The. Time. Living on empty, continually looking around the bend for the next thing that will make it all better. 

And parenting. In between the social media moments are struggles that no one sees. Battles for your kids or even against them. Battles against all the dangers out there and all the fears that plague you. Battles against health issues and mental health issues. Things uncomfortable to talk about. Because when people ask about your child, they surely don't want to hear about the new meds or counselor or treatment that you are hoping will bring some relief for the whole family. People want to hear about sports achievements and academic success. Not depression and bipolar diagnoses and the angst of watching for any sign of self-harm. So you carry the burden day after day after day. 

And from time to time, you collapse under the weight of it.

Like a Friday so long ago, when Jesus fell to the ground, his cross too heavy to bear alone.

Just like you.

The cross you bear is too heavy to handle alone, but where is your Simon of Cyrene who can be called from the crowds and forced to carry your cross for you?

Oh, yes. It's Friday.

And life is nothing as you'd pictured. Those you thought you could count on have left you feeling abandoned. The ideals of a circle of love and support, no matter what, feel like a cruel pipe dream now. Nobody has your back.

It's Friday.

You've endured the torment of emotional scars, even the pain of physical abuse. You've become a victim. A statistic. And this is a far cry from how you pictured your life.

It's Friday.

You feel alone. Battered. Bruised. Abandoned. Beaten down. Disenchanted.  A cynicism has taken root and is slowly choking out hope.

It's Friday.

But Sunday is coming. Sunday is on the way. And all that the enemy has stolen, killed and destroyed in your life. It's going to be redeemed. All that has victimized you will be turned into eternal victory. The cross that you bear will be taken from you. And a Savior will carry it for you. All your broken dreams and shattered hopes will be made whole. Forever. All the tears you've cried will be dried up, with no need to ever spill from your eyes again.

Sunday is coming.

And just as Jesus came back to life, all that has become dead within you can be breathed back to life.

Oh, yes. Sunday is coming.

The dark and damp and dying places will become brighter than the sun. The hopeless situations will turn on a dime, all because of Sunday.

When you go to visit that which you've had to bury, you will be astounded. Because heaven will break through the darkest, hardest, worst places and struggles that we face. Heaven will break through the disillusioned hearts and the downcast souls.

And the angels will sing the song of hope resurrected: "Do not be alarmed! He has risen!"

Sunday will come.

The biggest thing that weighs you down and holds you back will be rolled away. The hope that has died within you will be breathed back to life. The darkest, dankest stenches of defeat will be transformed into glorious, radiant light.

Oh, death has lost its sting.

Sin has lost its hold.

Condemnation has been silenced.

And the enemy himself has been defeated.

Because Sunday came, and the tomb was emptied as surely as God will empty the power of anything that comes against you. The burial clothes that bound him were loosed so that we too can find such freedom. And no matter how defeated, broken, bruised or battered we feel on Friday, God says just wait.

Just wait.

Sunday is on its way.