“Come, let us return to the Lord.
Frustrated, I text her that it feels so futile. Like I’m here spinning my wheels. Like it won’t get better.
I’m praying for real community while I’m dismissing everyone who disagrees with me as an idiot. I’ve been awful. I’ve thrown rocks at windows from my lonely seat, watching from afar. I’ve been too proud to get into the imperfect family of God. I act surprised when He seems far away, but in truth I haven’t been trying. I’ve been praying that God would show me where the good people are at.
“there is none righteous, no not one”
She is frank with me. She tells me I’m not trying if I keep shutting God out. And she’s nice about it, but she’s honest. And I drag myself, tear ridden, into the church, not expecting to sing. But I’m suddenly desperate to hear voices crying out to God. Because I can’t, not in this moment, and I feel deep in my heart that I need to be dragged into His presence.
He has torn us to pieces but he will heal us;
It all has to be broken down. And not in a neat way where you label all the pieces and put it back together. In a sledgehammer to the glass and I hope you never needed that window again kind of way. For a few days I stayed up all night, frothing in crisis. What do I believe? Who can I count on? It’s coming up inside of me that a lot of things are going to have to change. I am afraid.
he has injured us but he will bind up our wounds.
I spend a weekend praying. And instead of complaining about the people around me or my situation, I’m complaining about myself. I start to hate the pride and complacency and hate that have taken root in my heart. And I can’t fix it.
After two days he will revive us; on the third day he will restore us, that we may live in his presence.
And I wake up Sunday morning and go to church with a single resolve: listen. Not analyze, not criticize, not weaponize. Listen. I am surprised to find that God is speaking to me. I guess I’d been pretending I didn’t need to learn anything else.
Let us acknowledge the Lord; let us press on to acknowledge him.
I eat lunch on Saturday with a girl who is just spilling over with Jesus. It seems ludicrous to say that I couldn’t find Him here. It seems like maybe I was doing the idol thing again, telling Him how He should look or where He should be. I forgot that God is bigger than my ability to understand. I forgot about the humbling confusion that comes with wonder.
As surely as the sun rises, he will appear;
It isn’t easy by any stretch of the imagination. In fact it’s really hard. And sometimes I’m still in pieces, waiting.
he will come to us like the winter rains, like the spring rains that water the earth” (Hosea 6:1-3, NIV).