EXPECTATION AND DISAPPOINTMENT
In a desert land he found him, in a barren and howling waste. He shielded him and cared for him; he guarded him as the apple of his eye. Deuteronomy 32:10
So much of life involves dealing with expectations. I envision an event, anticipate the fruit of a relationship, and look forward to what I perceive will happen. Oftentimes what I hope for does not come to pass. Even more painful are those moments when I discover that I have been the object of another’s expectation and have fallen short to disappoint them. I can try feverishly hard to fix that but rarely will I succeed.
Perhaps your parents wanted a boy and you are a girl. Maybe they didn’t want children and called you a mistake. Perhaps they wanted you to take over a family practice and you became an artist instead. It may be that you were once engaged and your lover broke off the engagement. He said he didn’t love you anymore, or at least love you enough to marry you. When you are the object of another’s disappointment, it’s crippling. When a parent turns away from their child and sighs, the sensation of that, in the child’s heart, is massive. The sigh is felt for a lifetime.
If you feel you were a disappointment at birth, you have, most likely, spent a lifetime trying to compensate for bringing others pain. You have failed, even in this, because the problem was not you but their ungodly expectation. A child is a gift, no matter who they are, a gift to be treasured as God treasures. No one has the right to determine our worth except our Creator.
The only One who can heal disappointment is God. The only cure is to be the object of His desire. He says, “I want you. I love you. Be mine. I accept you and celebrate you. You have a purpose in my kingdom that no one else can fulfill.” That heals the wound of self-hatred. If the sunlight of God’s favor touches a frozen heart, and that heart chooses to bask in its warmth, a heart of stone is kissed to new life to become a heart of flesh. We are meant to breathe deeply of our belovedness, not hold our breath to wait for the next devastating blow to our self-worth.
For years, I hardly breathed. Sickly, fragile. You are making me the tree in Psalm One. Strong, flexible, free to bear fruit without apology. I love being Yours. Amen