The One Who Holds Me (Sovereign Love #4)

40. Alex

40

ALEX

THEN

I thought I would’ve gotten over it by now. That I would’ve finally found some peace within myself. But it’s been two weeks since my return from Ghana and things couldn’t get any worse than this. Not only have I broken up with Olanna—the only girl I’ve ever loved, but I still can’t bring myself to let anyone else in—not even my parents.

I force my eyes open as the sun’s rays filter through the curtains in my bedroom and into my eyes. My alarm went off an hour ago. It’s Saturday and I should be at my shift at the library, but I called to cancel it. Instead, I drag myself out of bed, put on my running gear, and make one lap to campus and back.

But even with the sweat pouring down my face and my heart beating erratically, the tension in my muscles and joints is far from gone. Back in my apartment, I jump in the shower, put on clean clothes, and settle behind my desk.

Since I keep canceling my shifts, I should use the time to study. This session starts off better than all the ones I’ve attempted over the last few days, so I put my earplugs in and open my notebooks. But it only takes one text notification in our family group chat to send my brain into another spiral.

Mom and Dad have either called or texted me every single day since I came back to college, but I keep giving them vague answers when they ask me how I’m doing because I can’t describe this pain that keeps jabbing at my heart. How can I describe those poisonous words that knock the air out of my lungs every time I think about them?

You were a mistake.

I swipe all the books off my desk and they land on the floor as a scream escapes my lungs, followed by the tears blurring my vision. Burying my head in my hands, I let the tears flow until my throat hurts from the lump I’m trying to force down. I lift my head and my gaze lands on my Bible on the floor, together with the rest of my books and pens.

I stare at the leather Bible Mom bought for me when I started college, remembering how she told me to always cherish it because the words written inside it are precious, from God’s mouth to our ears, and in that book lies all the answers I need.

I lower myself to the floor and bring my knees up to my chest. The unexplainable urge to open the Bible is strong, but what draws me even closer is the still small voice—the One that has persisted and that always comes at the right time.

Alex, My beloved.

At first, I want to blame God for letting me experience all this. But I can’t do that because I acted on my own accord. I never asked God whether He wanted me to go to Ghana. Even while I was there, I never asked Him to guide my decisions or keep my emotions in check. So no, I can’t blame Him now that I’ve hit a wall because of my own actions.

“Lord, I’m sorry.” I bow my head in prayer, my heart ready to spill out everything I’ve been holding in for the past two weeks. “I’m sorry for not seeking your direction. The cancer diagnosis really shook me up and I thought I needed to act with a sense of urgency. But what I really needed to do was slow down and look at You. I’m sorry, Lord. Please forgive me.”

I pause before continuing. “When will it end, Lord? I’m tired of feeling sad. I’m tired of feeling guilty for all the mistakes I’ve made. Is this all You made me for? Is this all that I am? A mistake?”

Alex, My beloved.

You are My child. Not a mistake.

I knew you even before I formed you in your mother’s womb.

I have set you apart for Me.

You will always be loved by Me.

A calming presence washes over me, first like a wave, then it towers over me like a cloud, shining a light down into the black hole I’m sitting in.

Nothing can separate you from Me.

You are mine.

I ponder on those words, letting them sit with me, meditating on them and repeating them to myself until the poisonous words fade into the background. “I’m still Yours, Lord?”

You have always been mine.

“But Lord, what happens next? What do You have planned for me? What does my future hold?”

Your future is in My hands, beloved.

I hold you securely with My victorious right hand.

No one can snatch you away from Me.

Trust Me. I will help you.

I pick up the Bible and place it on my knees before flipping the pages to the book of Isaiah, chapter forty-one verse thirteen. Leaning over the book, I read through the words repeatedly, using it as an anchor to hold on to hope.

“For I hold you by your right hand—I, the LORD your God. And I say to you, ‘Don’t be afraid. I am here to help you.’”