Heaven stopped answering back a while ago, didn’t it? The inside of your skull is lined with concrete and even if you wanted to talk to God, no prayer could make it out of that cranial bunker.
Aching to the very depths of your soul, you remind yourself to breathe because the tug of war between your brain and heart is killing you. Oxygen sustains your body, but your lungs heave against the world it keeps you in. Tears threaten to spill from your eyes as air rasps through the desert that’s been punched through your chest cavity.
“Curse this morning sun // drags me into one more day”
Where the hell is God?
I am not writing to give you an answer, even if there is one. If.
I am certainly not writing to tell you that things will get better. I have no idea if they will or not.
But, I will say this: If there is a God up there, and if he is as loving as some of the Christians say, then he’s more concerned with keeping you than keeping your unresponsive faith.
I’m reading through a book, Hinds’ Feet on High Places. It’s an extended metaphor about the Shepherd (God), his little shepherdess named Much-Afraid (humanity), and their journey to the High Places (life). At one point near their destination, after being asked where they are, the Shepherd responds, “This is the place to which I bring My beloved, that they may be anointed in readiness for their burial.”
Death always precedes resurrection. Reanimated faith must first be buried.
Take a deep breath – one that reaches past those sandy expanses and fills you to your toes – and let go. Loose your white-knuckled grip and let your emaciated, lifeless faith gently into its grave. Cover it, and grieve if you want to. You might not, and that’s okay too.
If there is a God up there, and if he is as loving as some of the Christians say, then he’s more concerned with keeping you than keeping your unresponsive faith.
If.
If is ashy grey and easy to hate. It’s the Saturday between Good Friday and Easter Sunday, covered in clouds and despair and death.
Death always precedes resurrection. Reanimated faith must first be buried.
Where the hell is God?
I told you that I’m not writing to give you an answer, and I’m not. But, if there is a God up there, and if he is as loving as some of the Christians say, then he’s more concerned with keeping you than keeping your unresponsive faith.
“This is the place to which I bring My beloved, that they may be anointed in readiness for their burial.”
