My Sunday Fight

For the past few weeks, when I wake up on Sunday morning, I begin the fight.

I go back and forth, back and forth, trying to decide if I'm going to church or not.

Yes I should go, but no I don't feel like it.

Going would help me to "feel like it" in a sense that it will uplift my mood and spirit.

But at the same time, I would much rather lounge around at home, all alone, getting things done in the peace and quiet that exists in a childless home.

This past Sunday was HARD.  

Even after I got to church, I didn't want to be there.  

Even after I felt the spirit, I wanted to go back to my home, to my seclusion.

With all my struggling and fighting I've done recently, I get tired easily.  

It would be so easy to give up and give in.  

I'm sick of the fight.  The fight to be happy.  The fight to be normal (whatever that is.)

There is a reason for it all though.  It is making me stronger... for what, I have no idea yet.  

But I do know why I needed to be at church this past Sunday.

There was a lesson I needed to learn, some reassurance from my Father in Heaven.

2 Chronicles 20:15

...Thus saith the Lord unto you, Be not afraid nor dismayed by reason of this great multitude; for the battle is not yours, but God’s.

 What a relief it is to know that the fight and battle is not mine.  What a weight off my shoulders.  I love the tender mercies of the Lord.  This one was for me!