I am tired of praying. Tired of hoping. Tired of waiting.
I cannot sense you God. In the desolate plains of lack- you’ve hidden yourself. On my knees, lost for which words to use now, I weep. The streams of tears not letting up, because I cannot seem to find your presence, yet I know you are here. You said you will always be with us. You are Emanuel!
And that’s why I find it tough to reconcile.
Why hide yourself from me? Why take me through such wilderness? I have used up all the words I can speak to you. Now I only weep. I want to stop thinking that you will help me. But where else can I go?
I rationalize what you are doing in my life and just when I think I want to give up completely, I realize you are weaning me from fashioning you in my own image. You are not in my beck and call. but I am in yours.
You are making me into your own image!
If I could tell you to jump and you did, you could not be my God, you’d be genie-and we know you are not.
It is hard for me. Too hard.
Even in my internal confusion, I know you mean well at the expense of my pain. But I know in my pain lies growth, a stretching, a believing that I am always at the palms of my maker regardless of circumstance. You give us everything good at the price of time and pain. The conundrum that is growth lies in my dead places.
It takes everything in me to push forward. To hope that you have a plan. A proposal out of the mess I am in. I do not know what to pray about, for everything is a mess. The face I put in public is a disguise to keep me from breaking down.
At one moment I am in despair, but the next I remember the times you’ve lifted me from being engulfed by the responsibilities about me.
I am reminded the story of Moses after he fled to the blistering desert in the wake of his treason. He was a man accustomed to walking with kings but now he walked alone. Torn from the zenith of royal power, he was now stripped of all princely garments, rank and earthly wealth.
He was a forsaken man, without a nation and hope. His soul was in turmoil like the hot raging winds of the desert’s dust that lashed him like the task masters whip on the backs of the slaves he’d a while ago ruled over… yet he pushed forward to a land unknown to him and a God unseen.
Into the scorching sun of desert of sin where granite sentinels stood as towers barring his way, his troubled mind remembered his previous conquests as he trudged-on with desolation and loneliness all about him. When nights fell, the whispering cold of the desert winds and a foreboding of the impending doom reminded him it was better to be dead than alive.
He couldn’t curse or bless the power that moved him forward because he did not know where it came from. He was accustomed to all the ways of the Egyptians, raised in a palace that worshiped idols.
He then finds himself driven through the boiling pan of the desert where Holy men and prophets are purified for God’s own purpose. At last when all his human strength is extinguished and he falls on the heated dust of the desert from where man was made- the vessel is now ready to be used!
This is the price we pay for God’s purpose. We travel paths filled with loneliness, want, desperation and doubt. We wish we did not have to, but it is required of us. A rite of passage of sorts. The dying of self and the birth of the image of Christ. The purification by fire!
The son of God himself wasn’t spared from it. He endured the scorching desert, the loneliness, the hatred, the abandonment on the cross by his own father!
And he posed the question; Can a servant be greater than the master?
There’s nothing that can compare to it.
The caterpillar understands it.
It goes through a season of intense feeding, and when the time comes, rolls itself into a cocoon in isolation and metamorphoses into a butterfly.
Without the transformation, it can only crawl. The process is the only thing that gives it flight. A once crawling insect with only eating as its mission transitions into a beautiful butterfly that can travel great distances.
Every part of me resists the transition, but it is the journey I must take. The journey we must all make.
God created the earth from nothingness. His specialty is creating from void. Filing from emptiness. He will obliterate the things our hopes hinges on, the things that give us the false sense of security to bring us to the place where our only refuge is him. He has done it in the past and there’s no stopping him now.
I have searched for him months now. But all I find is that he’s hidden. Hidden from me. I struggle, yet I know that I have come far from where I used to be. I want to give up, but the still small voice tells me to hold on. The fact that I cannot give up breaks me inside.
I love the Lord, yet I am confused at his manner of love. This manner of love. Must I die in the pit of my sorrows Lord? Must I endure the bareness of your absence to find you? Like David in psalm 6:6;
I am worn out from groaning all night long, I flood my bed with weeping and drench my couch with tears.
But I know that your timing is best. You will show yourself when you want to be seen. Meantime I will knock the door of heaven even though I am wearying from knocking, I will seek your face though you hide yourself from me, and I will continue asking heaven to save me amid the heaviness of my heart!
To save me from the anguish that steals my sleep.
The distress that plagues my life and the torment that seeks to pull me away from my one true love.
I know your grace like the song Majesty by hillsong, will find me just as I am, EMPTY HANDED but alive in your hands. And I will forever be changed in the presence of your love.