there are nights
i feel everything so deeply
beauty, love, loss and sadness
and my soul wells up and pours itself out through my eyes
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..
“You are like a dancing dream, full of bright lights and colors and explosion. I could watch you all day and when you speak I never want to stop listening. You make me fall in love without even trying, and you don’t even know it.”
I wrote this ages ago. I never share little pieces like in the moment – it feels too vulnerable. But when it has all passed and when my heart has settled.. the stories become easier to tell.
He made such a mark on my heart. It was a very brief and fragile time, but I catch myself missing it every single day.
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.