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.