Where are you?

The days are dark and the nights are cold.

I cannot sleep.

You know about that story with the guy walking with God on the beach and he sees two sets of footprints? During his rough times he only sees one set of footprints, and asks God, where was God in that time. And God responded that it was He who carried him.

I know God exists. I know He’s there.

I cannot sleep.

But there’s an ache in my heart that says

What if he’s not there?

I cannot sleep.

There’s a large chasm of loneliness here.

No one can know the shame I bear.

I cannot sleep.

I feel like I’m the one on the cross, and he’s the one jeering at my face.

This is going to be a long post.

But when I come home, sit down in my room, the shadows come. And the days grow dark, nights cold. Haunted am I by the oppression of loneliness. Paralyzed by fear, cursed by God.

This is going to be an honest post. I shan’t bother with correct and precise theological terms and definitions. I just want to cry and shout my plea. But to whom shall I cry, for if my cause is against the Judge of Heaven?

Lord, I feel so weak right now. Like I have to put up a face of grace that others might come to you. But while I’m rushing others through the door for you, I dare not approach your altar, for I feel like you’ve let me down.

Remind me again how much you love me because I forgotten the days when you held my hand. Whisper how much you miss me because I miss you so. I know I’m not perfect, nor am I deserving of your love. But I know how you love to love me. But if you do love me, then why did you let this happen to me?

Remember that night o Lord, when you woke me up, called me, and spent the night with me, embracing me with the light of your stars and the warmth of your moon. Remember when I knelt before you, and we just sat together, in silence, like best friends do. Remember when I offered my morning sacrifice of praises to you, and you graciously accepted them, O Lord.

Why then, did you leave me here? Why, then, am I led out to this weary desert? Why won’t you answer me?

Lord, is that really you who hang upon that tree? Or is it me who is suffocating here? And you, in the face of the Pharisee, mocking me?

All I ask, to see you again. All I want, to behold you in your glory again. All I need, you.

But here I am. Alone. Silence. Darkness. Mocking voices, telling me that I’ve let you, your church, down. Here I am. Not mercy, but sorrow following my every footstep. Here I am. Lost. Broken. Dead. You have not a will for me.

Please, please, Lord. Please rescue me. Please, Lord, I’m begging you. Salve me, Domine. Libera me, et eripe me, Domine Deus.

Though you should slay me, I will still hope in you.