sometimes
we go through our pilgrimage
and everything feels like a desert.

we try to eat
and drink up,
and nothing,
like nothing is shifting or moving or changing
even a little bit

we grow discouraged
and even question it
dig our nails in the dirt in frustration
but we go on anyway

we read His word,
clinging to every sentence,
every phrase,
every word
like a starved man eating every bit of morsel

we pray even though our words are awkward and all jumbled up
and we don’t even know what to say
and we struggle against our flesh
with all our Spirit-empowered might
and believe that He will come
and break through the darkness…

because there is no darkness in Him.
we are encompassed by His righteousness and light.

we tread through this fallen world
and experience much suffering and sorrow and pain,
but just as He’s promised,
all is light and momentary and every affliction
He is using for His good purpose.

forgive us for chasing after comfort
and pursuing selfishness
and forsaking our brethren
and pouring out our worship
towards things that are useless and vain.

forgive us for turning to our idols,
for our pathetic band-aid solutions
towards problems that have been birthed by our sins.

we drink cheap entertainment
and adore the buzz it creates in our heads
because they drown out the heavy silence
and the emptiness.
but nothing fills.

think of your iniquities,
how seemingly insurmountable are they?
and yet, Christ’s mercies are stronger still.

sometimes
there are days where this becomes so increasingly real,
beating like a gong inside my head:
I am at His mercy.
and it is a good thing, because it is true,
and if He were not gracious enough to open my eyes to the gospel
I’d still be a rebel
spitting on the face of God.

and nothing else quite like that
shakes me
to my
core.