I’m feeling far, far away from my Father tonight. I see the pictures, hear the stories, know death is on the prowl. For a God that wants salvation, I’d say this play is foul.
I’m thinking God is far, far away and is surely out of sight. I see destruction, fallen nations and no savior in this world. A man that would lie at least would deal with what is hurled.
I’m hurting deep, deep inside because He is destroying this world. I never thought I’d see this prophecy of biblical turmoil. But he said it from the beginning we’ll return to the soil.
I’m crying Lord, Lord, Lord, and I wonder if he hears. I see no end to some people’s hurt and for some, it only gets worse. How can you call this woman your child when she only sees the curse? Lord I’ll let you speak if you wanna speak through me. You give the words that you want in prophecy. You tell me what to do when cancer and death and suffocation and humiliation and depression and disorder run its course. You tell me what to do when the broken-hearted scream when the blood of one’s child mocks your gift to me. When torture of living, both in terror and everyday living become the reality of many, including Christianity, where else can we look then to the God above that says he lives in me through Christ who strengthens me with Holy Spirit that empowers me? What is infinity really worth when it all ends? Broken hearts from human wishes, does it all just depend? What makes a man or a woman lovelier than you? Why can’t my desires and my wishes really come true? Why is the grass greener and the real world always meaner? Why does the treasure stored on Earth come to an end? What am I really storing when I bury my treasures in heaven? Can you paint me a better picture than the way I see and hear? Can I see what your love looks like when it casts out all fear? Can you give me the words you give to those who ask and also receive? Can you give to me freely and fulfill all of my needs? I ask all of these questions because I hear all these confessions of the things that have already come. And not just to some but to all of us, we see the fallen Adam. And I see a broken pattern, and I really cannot fathom another broken child’s heart. Lord, my Lord, my Lord, have you really reached your peak? Lord, my lord, my lord, this debt that evil has caused, can you really make it leave? And can You ever repay for the trouble it caused?
Your love in all this terror will magnify itself, to the point that your grace will restore our health. And we’ll desire you as you have desired, and we’ll seek no other God because there is none higher. We’ll love you as you loved us because you wanted it that way. By the grace of your perfect mercy, we’ll no longer be afraid. In the meantime, I’ll count my blessings, whether one or eleven. And declare your will done on Earth as it is in heaven.
Like this poem? Check out, Bipolar Poem: Pain Romanticized where I write about my difficulties of trying to connect with someone suffering from a personality disorder and how I desire to find the words to soothe them.
“Sad Photo” Stock Image courtesy of zirconicusso at FreeDigitalPhotos.net.