Held Fast in the Brokenness - Guest Blog by Adelee Russell Tinajero

Hours after I found out my father had committed suicide, I sat in my friend's basement alone. Trying to grasp the reality of what was happening.

As I sat in that basement I was faced with a question: will I trust in God? Or will I curse Him and leave Him?

I remember peace flooding my heart as I realized everything else in my life was in shambles but I knew one thing: I knew God. I'd seen too much to forget. Where else would I go? I knew every other direction would be meaningless.

"I trust You..." I whispered into the empty room. "I don't know what's going to happen... I don't know what my life is anymore... but I trust You. I'm not running. I'm holding onto You..."

That Sunday--a week later--I went to church. I knew many had heard the news. I could feel their eyes on me. I felt their concern. I felt their natural curiosity.

Worship began and I knew what I was going to do. I had decided before I'd entered the room. I got down on my knees, hands raised, and worshipped God. Publicly.

I wanted people to know the enemy hadn't won. That God was still who He said He was and I still trusted Him. I wanted to publicly shame the enemy whose twisted lies had dug into my dad's heart, and who had tried to force them into mine... I wanted the world to know that despite the heartache, and the pain, and the uncertainty, that my God was still good. And I still trusted Him. I still loved Him.

I wish I could say the entirety of my healing process was like this. But this was merely a moment of strength in a sea of grief...

I wish I could say I was always courageous. But my courage ebbed and flowed. And sometimes I felt too weak and scared and angry to carry on.

When the cleaning crew came to try and scrape my dad's blood off the floor, I watched them arrive from my bedroom window. And I remember thinking as my heart grew cold "This is my life. I hate that this is my life..." Bitterness and anger and a jaded facade began to grow.

There were times I praised God for His provision despite our circumstances. There were times I sought the refuge of His presence. There were times I was filled with His forgiveness and mercy and love.

But there were also times I screamed and pounded my fists against the wall wishing I could pound them against God's chest. There were times I accused Him, with hatred in my heart, of ruining my life.

There were times I was filled with bitter hatred towards my dad. Not just for how he'd left us, but for the dad he had never been. Times I wished he'd come back to life just so I could hurt him again and again.

There were times when fear almost consumed me. There were times when I got lost in the pitch-black recesses of my own thoughts. There were times when suicide and depression haunted my mind. There were times when I was a miserable mess. Helpless. And achingly, bitterly, wretchedly lost.

I say this because healing can feel like this. A victorious overcoming... a bitter defeat. Two steps forward. Three steps back. Breakthroughs, and break downs. Picking up the pieces, and falling apart all over again.

But as wretched as the process is, joy does come in the morning. There is a light at the end of the tunnel and it is Jesus Christ. The dark clouds do fade. The gentle rain does wash the blood and tears away. The sun comes out. It warms your body and your soul. And you find peace in His arms.

And then you look back on the broken, winding road. And you realize He was with you all along. That all the times you felt like you were alone in the dark that He was walking right beside you.

That when the demons attacked and you were curled up on the floor in defeat, that He fought for you. That He broke their swords and disarmed their lies.

That He knelt over you and covered you, and protected you (Matt. 23:37).

That while you were sleeping He held you in His arms, close to His heart (Isaiah 40:11).

And as you rest on the other side of a season of healing you look back on these things, and you realize He never left you or forsook you. He never forgot you--though you feared He had.

And He brought the light. While you were unaware He bandaged your wounds. He healed your heart. He gave you joy. He redeemed. He restored. Most of all He loved. Fiercely. Intimately. Relentlessly.

Dear friend, if you are in the darkest season of healing, know that there is hope. There is restoration. There is freedom.

We do not do the work. We simply keep showing up. Keep reaching out to God. He does the rest. And He will bring the dawn in His perfect time.❤

Adelee Russell is a freelance writer from Brownsburg, IN. When she's not writing she enjoys exploring old bookstores and hanging out at coffee shops. You check out more of her story at: www.rewritten27.wordpress.com