You say that all I have to do is call to You, and You will tell me things I do not know.
So, tell me: Where are You?
I can’t read the news anymore. There’s so much pain in the world right now, and I can’t help but wonder—where is Your light? You say You have overcome the world, but we still have to live in it, and it is so very broken. I tell my children that You are a good and loving God who will protect them. But then, in the same breath, I have to explain why they aren’t allowed to see their friends or be near their grandparents.
We have always had a need to make sense of the world we live in—through science, through mathematics, through geography—so that we are able to explain and justify our experiences. However, God’s ways don’t always make sense.
As an analytical person who works every single day in spreadsheets and numbers, it makes logical sense to me when the world says, “We don’t need prayers; we need action.” I have to remind myself that prayer is the most important action we could take.
A humble brag is a “self-deprecating statement whose actual purpose is to draw attention to something of which one is proud”. We have all likely been on both the giving and receiving end of a humble brag.
When is the last time you stood in the gap for someone you loved? Many of us do this daily, praying over our family members and our friends. We might miss a day here and there, or even a week when we are really busy, but we consistently remember to lift them up. Do we have the same faithfulness and persistence to lift up our fellow church members? Our leaders? Our communities? Cities? Nations?
Confession: Most days, if all of my prayers were answered, my kids and husband would stay safe and my food would be blessed, but the world would remain unchanged.
The words sound empty and hollow, even to me.
I’m on autopilot, saying the things I know would get me an A in an English course,
but mean nothing to the one I’m talking to.
I say sorry for the millionth time,
and for the millionth time we both know I would do it again. Maybe even tonight. Repeat. Repent. Repeat. Repent.
Please, God, break this shell. Get through to me.
Forbid me. Punish me.
I was going through an old journal, and found this entry I wrote about prayer when I was in high school. I was struggling with an addiction at the time and felt like repentance was losing its meaning. I would apologize, agonize, and then fall into the same temptation again. The problem was that I had a flawed definition of repentance and I was trying to break an addiction by myself.