Dear God…

It’s me again.

I appreciate Your time and focus. I know you have a million other things in front of you, and I’m sure I am one of the least of these, but You tell me I can come, so here I am.

Another day has crept through my curtains. Your sunrise greets me with a boisterous, Hello! I am thankful for the breath in my lungs. Please do not let me take these moments for granted. Keep my eyes ever fixed on the Author and Finisher of my faith, my Sustainer, my Everlasting Hope.

Yet sometimes I wonder if you grow weary of my constant worries and doubts. The fears that creep in my brain and seek to overwhelm me. I can picture the slow release of a heavy sigh from your lips as you wonder if I will ever “get it”.

I think that is the hard part for me. Trying to define what the “it” actually is? There are so many voices screaming at me. The screen in my hand or on the wall constantly telling me how to act, think and feel. Quick, tiny snippets of information pushing into my brain so frequently, it’s impossible to sort them all out. Those who seem to know grander things than I about who You are, paint portraits of Your face on canvases of their own making. It causes me to wonder if I have my own paint and easel at my disposal, yet fail to utilize them? But am I even supposed to? The artwork of opinion I have seen from the majority so far, do not look anything like the God of the scriptures I am reading. I suppose they struggle with “it”, too.

So many things to unravel, such as understanding the “it” of Your love? I mean, how can You look at me with eyes of adoration, when I behave in such a vile, putrid way most days? Selfish motives fueling actions, which then turn into poor decisions, resulting in skinned and bleeding knees once again. You give me everything, and I take it- with very little reciprocation. Why do I do that? As if all of creation sings my song and not Yours.

This one sided dance in my need for self control and continuous assurance of Your love for me, while ignoring the fact my demonstrations of affection toward You are razor thin and inconsistent. This turning inward, with a steady focus of me, myself and I, leaves me tired and yet it’s still so difficult to put an end to such actions. My flesh wins out more times than I am proud to admit.

Or perhaps I can untangle the “it” of my identity more easily? No… probably not. The face in my mirror, always unsure of the reflection. Who am I, really? Deep beyond the pores and layers of epidermis. I tend to feast on a steady diet of negativity, which is not surprising, for the world at large is drunk off that golden chalice. I can never be enough. The masses and media nod their agreement. My eyes find it difficult to focus in a sea of blurry swirls and endless waves of distraction churning around me. No wonder I lose myself so easily. Could You throw me a life preserver please?

Daily stumbles.

Some just a slight misstep; while others are so hard I’m fairly certain one day I will snap my ankle clean off. So, here I am- back to the disappointment on Your face and the slow shaking of Your head. My faith lacking and faltering, hanging precariously over a pit of shame. I believe Lord, help my unbelief!

Grow me and strengthen me. Aren’t I supposed to look more and more like You anyway? Do You grow weary from the constant polishing, chiseling, refining and remaking I require? If I were You, I would. An aggravated “Ughhhh”, as I run my frustrated fingers through my hair. These are the things I wrestle with and wonder about and still so much more I could write with this pen and paper, filling the pages with uncertainty and a lack of wisdom.

Questions about the future of my family.

Fears over the world I see spawning and spreading.

What should I be accomplishing in this current season of my life?

Am I making any difference for the Kingdom? Do I make Your name great?

Is my voice lost in a societal vacuum?

Or maybe I’m just projecting my human experiences onto You; boxing You into a similar temperament I have seen from others and molding You into a creature of my own making. And the “it” I desperately try to define, based solely on my dictionary, written especially for me, by me, really has nothing to do with me at all.

Hummm.. never thought of it that way.

Give me understanding Lord.

Amen