I am a shadow drifting on the floor. I am the old home that you once adored. I am a torn heart beating in your chest. I am the window you gaze through at best.
“You are not hidden. There’s never been a moment you were forgotten. You are not hopeless, though you have been broken, your innocence stolen. I hear you whisper underneath your breath.
“I will send out an army to find you in the middle of the darkest night, it’s true. I will rescue you.”
We’ve dragged ourselves out of bed early to meet together as we do each week. This time, I won’t run away. I won’t shut down. I’m not sure what happened last week.
Sometimes it feels as though no one wants to speak. I wonder whether it’s pride or shame or just awkwardness. For me, it can be a combination of all three. But this morning we are sharing slowly yet openly. Fatigue, discouragement, disappointment, suffering, intimidation, and fear reside in our words, yet we share them and they become less cavernous, less consuming.
This question guts me. It makes me say the f word in my head and shake from desperately holding back tears. I need to answer it for myself because I know where I think He is during my suffering. Not here.
But then came the resurrection. So it would be wrong of me, even evil, to say the same about Him during the crucifixion.
I have lost the experience of your presence. I can no longer see your face. Truths that were once sweet do not comfort me. Pour out your soul, analyze your hopes, remember the lovingkindness of God, and preach to your heart.
Is this a desert of my own making? I know what to do yet I don’t do it.
My brother has come back from India a changed man. He is alive. This card reduced me to tears and humble gratefulness.
Chels, How much I love you is hard to describe as the significant impacts you have had on my life have not been few in number. When I was young you were kind to me and attempted to understand when no one else would...
Remember when I said that I’m fighting you? Well the truth is, I’m not and it feels to us both like you are winning. Sometimes I’m willing to concede to the idea because it’s easier and doesn’t require me to change my worst patterns—an impossible task. But...
He’s not a bad man. In fact, he has one of the purer hearts I have seen. His intentions and his loves are true. His convictions are firm and just. His heart is soft underneath. I spend too much time thinking about how he is not perfect.
I see you. You lie to me so often, I hardly notice. You tell me he doesn’t love me. You tell me we won’t change. You tell me hope is lost, fear is fine and comfort cannot be found. While I easily and quickly believe you, you’ve been noticed. I see you and I’m fighting you.
Last night was wonderful until it wasn’t. We went to the new 5:00 gathering for the first time. We had been discussing how it has felt difficult lately; the church hasn’t felt like home for some time, like it used to.
Sometimes marriage is flinging every hurtful word just to spread pain and ensure you’re not alone in yours. Sometimes it’s throwing things when you know you shouldn’t, and doing it repeatedly. There’s that anger again, just like when you were a kid. Sometimes it’s threatening to leave because you just want the fight to end though you never meant it.