goodness, Hope, Pain, restoration, Trials, Wilderness

Good good Father? 

You’re a good good Father 

It’s who You are, it’s who You are 

And I’m loved by You

It’s who I am, it’s who I am 

You are perfect in all of Your ways to us. 

What a beautiful song. But as the crowd sang it in church today, I could barely even open my mouth. There was nothing inside me that believed those words. Absolutely nothing. Disappointment has been the theme of my life and it has so clouded my vision and hardened my heart against the goodness of God. Is it even real? Is it even for me? I don’t believe it. 

Mighty and holy yes, but a good Father? No. Everything in my experience has dictated to me otherwise. Pain sears my heart when songs like these are sung during worship because I cannot join the congregation of the faithful to declare what I do not believe. It makes me so sad. Life is so hopeless when you don’t know how to believe this one simple truth. 

Yet I don’t know how to walk away. I keep hoping that someday, somehow, He will come and prove me wrong. That He will show me His goodness in a way that I can finally understand. He has to. Because I don’t know what else to do anymore. 

Will You meet me where I am God? Can you reach me past all my walls? Will You restore and redeem all that has been broken so that I can see Your heart for what it is again? How I need it. How I need it so much.. 

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Consecration, Process, Trials, Wilderness

I do believe, please help my unbelief.

I miss the days of simple faith. Everything is so much easier when you “just believe”. So much more beautiful. 

How I envy those who have not gone through the fires of doubt. 

Here I stand now in these fires. They lick and eat away at me from every side. Will I come out unscathed and stronger, or will they burn me away to waste? 

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Love, Musings, Poetry

Wishful Thinking

Coffee, hope, poetry. I don’t know if I’d read it somewhere, but these three words keep ringing wistfully in my head lately. Perhaps it is because they are representative of the things that tug at my heart the most in this life. Oh would we all be so lucky to have our days filled with drawn out coffee conversations, quiet hope and beautiful poetry that makes sense of it all. What else could one ask for. Perhaps it is the simplest things that mean the most after all. 

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Pain, Prayer, Trials, Wilderness

Hanging on by a tiny thread

There are times when life corners you in so, and all you can do is fall on your face before God for help, hoping against hope that He will come through for you. That your tears are not in vain and that there is a God who sees and hears. That, whatever it looks like, your redemption will come. 

Please don’t make me wait for too long, I’m so afraid I might let go. 

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