there are no quiet times. no new devotionals. im not listening to a sermon series. i drag myself to church most sundays. i have no fancy words. no cliche church words. i have looked inside. and i come up empty. there is just worship music. and there is this emptiness.
i see myself off the beaten path. watching others go by. running their own race. some walking slower. others buzzing by. i stand still. in the quiet. in the mystery. waiting.
i have untangled many lies of Gods character. i have run my finger across the broken parts of my own foundation. His life squeezed in. His mystery in my darkest parts. specks of christian culture sprinkled within my cement. man made specks imbedded in my “solid rock.” imbedded in my thinking and in my doing. i lost my faith. I lost my faith to find it. again. No prayers were uttered on these lips. I’d said them all before. read them all before. just groans and cries from my own soul. crying for healing. there is just silence. and there is this emptiness.
i am needy. no longer the false illusion of self sufficiency running through my blood. i am in want. thirsty. hungry. dirty.
what would it look like for me to hand it over. my burdens. to replace them with light ones. to raise up my hands. give myself up. to take the cup to my thirsty mouth. to eat of life bread. what would it look like to rip up this old house. expose myself. my bottom self. to let my foundation be relaid. what would it look like to know my great need. to admit i lost my faith. just to find it again. what power can i hold when i just say it. say the name jesus.
im laying down my images of him. laying down your images of him. and im crying out with my heavy burdens to the name. i stand still. in the quiet cries. in the mystery. waiting.