Teething︱Trusting God Through Post-College Struggles

When a baby teethes, his mother will do anything to soothe his discomfort, all the while knowing this pain, this experience, is unavoidable.

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(Photo by Alia / @summationblog)

Since graduating college in May, I have been dealing with a series of struggles. I moved into a new apartment with my cat, whose sorry state was worsened by an infestation of fleas. Finishing higher education meant the end of FASFA loans, and at thirteen dollars and seventy-five cents an hour at my part-time job, I wasn't making enough money to pay rent. My time has been filled with dealing with pest control and vacuuming every few days, unsuccessful job applications, and contemplating the likelihood I'll end up at my mother’s doorstep as a failure.

For lack of a more eloquent word, I've been struggling. I'm stuck in a place the church loves to call "the Season of Waiting." A few months ago, the church I attend introduced a month-long series centered on waiting in the Bible. I was only able to attend one lesson of the four (as my need for financial resources took precedence over skipping a Sunday morning shift), but it was a typical Christian message: "The Bible is full of waiting, you'll have to wait, and the only thing to do is trust God."

I'd like you to know you can both trust in God and still struggle. We are not caught in an either/or situation. We are human, complex and nuanced. God is complex and nuanced. The world is complex and nuanced. Yet many still refuse to acknowledge the many facets of God: the Holy, the loving, the compassionate.

When I sought to confide in those I felt were more knowledgeable about God than myself, they said I needed to trust God. "That's all you can do," they'd say, and I'd be increasingly frustrated. What did they think I was doing? Getting up every day, scheduling dentist appointments, listening to worship music, remaining compassionate and empathetic for others, doing laundry, and vacuuming for forty-five minutes twice a week was trusting God. Trying my best to thank God every time my financial situation changed, even through a penny on the sidewalk, was trusting God. I felt no need to speak the words each day to say I was doing my best to understand my situation through God. In fairness, I had never told these people I felt I was trusting God, and I can admit my fault there.

Still, the perceived overlook of my efforts only served to drive me further into grief and isolation. Why would I continue to seek when their only solution was to make a greater effort?

My emotions overflowed one Sunday at 10:27 pm when I called my mother, even though I knew she would be asleep, after such a conversation with a friend. I was tired, but I was not ready to give up. I just needed a break. I felt like I had been swimming through crashing ocean waves, pulled under before my lungs could fill with breath. I needed a life jacket to hold me afloat long enough to catch my bearings. I longed to run side-by-side with God, but I was begging for a few minutes to catch my breath.

It is okay to ask for a break.

I will repeat myself. It is okay to ask for a break.

It does not mean that your trust and faith are not still in God. It does not mean you are unaware God is working through millions of people, some who know him and some who do not, to work it all for your good. It makes you human.

If there is one thing about God I remain steadfast on, He is love. Loving, too, but love. I'm sure you've heard of God's love a million times when reading the Bible or sitting in a church pew, but it's easy to miss the depth of it. God loves you. He is moving Heaven and Earth for you. We often approach God as a loftier being. And he is, to be sure. But the difference between our God and the "gods" of this world is that God is unswayed by power. He's not made forgetful by the number of his people. He's not so far removed he can't sympathize with our struggle. 

I won't pretend to comprehend this fully, but God and Jesus are both separate and together. Jesus is the son of God, fully man and fully God, but they are also one. On Judgement Day, Jesus will vouch for us before God, but they are also one. Confusing? Yes.

Jesus descended from Heaven to Earth. He was the perfect, sinless sacrificial lamb, God on Earth, and fully human. He was born as a baby, grew into a child, and walked the Earth as a man. The Lamb of God could've fallen and scraped his knee or faced the wait for dinner with a grumbling stomach like any of us. His anguish was so great as to mimic blood on the night Judas betrayed him.

“Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done. An angel from heaven appeared to him and strengthened him. And being in anguish, he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground.” Luke 22:42-44 (NIV)

I believe He wept over leaving his disciples to fulfill his Heavenly purpose and return to Heaven as an Earthly man mourns for his brother. And when He had taken the weight of our sins with his body nailed to the cross, He cried out when God turned away his face.

“From noon until three in the afternoon darkness came over all the land. About three in the afternoon Jesus cried out in a loud voice, ‘Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?’ (which means “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?)” Matthew 27:45-46 (NIV)

Jesus’ cry references Psalms 22, written by David, prophecying the crucifixion. The opening lines are the words of a struggling man. They are familiar and almost comforting. Here is a figure from the Bible, living when it seemed easy to feel that God is most palpable, struggling and crying out for God’s aid. While it is familiar to end the Psalm here, as it is only the first line cried by Jesus before his death, the end of the Psalm relays a steadfast faith in the Lord’s strength.

“But you, Lord, do not be far from me. You are my strength; come quickly to help me.” Psalm 22:19-22 (NIV)

Jesus experienced the pain of imperfect Earthly living the way we do now. He has experienced the wait. Jesus waited thirty years to die. From the moment He joined us on Earth, He lived while the dreaded anticipation of crucifixion was his future. Even knowing that his death was the only way to give us life, He still pled to God for a stay of execution.

"And going a little farther he fell on his face and prayed, saying, ‘My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will’... Again, for the second time, he went away and prayed, ‘My Father, if this cannot pass unless I drink it, your will be done.’" Matthew 26:39, 42 (ESV)

Not once did Jesus beg God for another way, but twice. Was He still trusting in God all the while? Yes. But He felt the same fear in the waiting we do now, and He was perfect and sinless. If Jesus can grow weary and afraid, why can't we?

I refuse to believe that our great, loving, compassionate God did not ache for His son all the while. I can't imagine when Jesus returned to heaven, God mocked him for His tears, His cries, His pain. I think God greeted his son as any great father would. He held him close and mourned his pain and wept in relief because his son had returned. Why would God treat us any differently?

We are not Jesus; it's true, but Jesus is God, so our Maker knows the pains and anxieties of waiting. We so often get wrapped up in the fact that Jesus and God are father and son that we fail to understand they are one and the same. He could not have wept in anticipation for the cross and still mock us for our tears. That's not God. That's not love. Love is patient and kind. Kindness is not mockery; It is compassion. It is comforting those in pain. That is God.

“Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.” 1 Corinthians 13:4-7 (ESV)

We are teething babies, and God is our mother. I know that might strike some as odd because God is our father, but the bond between a mother and child is akin to that of God. A mother makes her child; She carries them in her womb for nine months and as such, feels an instinctual bond that is unlike any other human connection. God is our Maker. 

When a baby teethes, his mother's heart is aching for his pain. She will do anything to soothe his discomfort, all the while knowing that this pain, this experience, is unavoidable. It’s like my mother when I was little and afraid of shots, but she would hold my hand and promise me ice cream because she knew the shot was necessary and the anxiety understandable.

God is encouraging us. God is telling us he's proud. He's not an impassive deity too lofty to reach us. I believe if we stretch out our hands, like children reaching for their parents in a crowd, knowing that connection means safety, God will grasp back. He knows it's hard. He knows our road is not always easy. He knows that waiting for it to work out for good is tiring. There's no shame in growing weary.

My biological father was not a good man, but I am blessed with a wonderful stepfather. During a hard week, he bought me a (absurdly massive, for my little apartment) TV simply because I'd had a rough time. He didn't say he was proud of me, but he didn't have to. The message was more than implied. My mother, unaware of the gift at first, is sure God spoke to me through him, and I'm inclined to agree (“The absurdly massive TV is God saying his love for you is that big!”). I'm not saying God's sending flatscreens, but He is not an impassive force. He will offer encouragement and repose if you simply ask.

Alia