I wrote this a couple of days ago and determined not to post it because it “ain’t pretty”. But sometimes real is more important than pretty, and real needs to get out and play a little more often.
I’m scrolling through Blogger this evening, catching up on my favorite blogs, pretending not to feel it. Pushing things down to the deepest parts of my soul.
But God knows. And it’s just a title, just three words, but I know God spoke through her fingers directly to me. That the title could have been a thousand different things, but instead it was “For the Hard Days”. And finally, I squeeze my eyes shut as I feel warm salt water run down my face. Because it’s been one of those days. It’s been a hard day. It’s been a hard couple of days actually. But not hard in the way that something tragic happened. No, hard because life is moving fast and excitedly all around me, and all I want sometimes is to fall at the feet of my Creator. And peace is all I want. And rest is what my mind needs. But there’s too much going on. And no rest is in sight.
And it’s hard because noone quite gets it. Because I’ve left and now I’m back. But I’ll never be the same. And culture tells me that I need to fit into all the old places, but my heart and my soul want to run as far away as I can. I spend a few hours early in the week at a rundown apartment complex playing with kids, many without fathers or living with aunts or grandmothers, and it gets me thinking. And I want nothing more than to rent an apartment there and live in a “scary place” and feed people and love on people and not have to be in this place where everyone acts like everything is okay, when really our brokenness is so much more tragic because we refuse to deal with it. Refuse to see it as a problem. Flaunting it instead, selfishness and greed and pride. And I’m just as much of the problem as anyone else is. Because I’m different, but in many ways I’m the exact same. I’m trying to find worth in everything because finding it in Jesus is so easy to talk about but hard to do when it just seems like you’ve been begging for a mission, and He’s refusing to answer, but is He really?
Because I know that my mission is to make much of Him. And I try so hard. But that’s the problem. Because I’m trying. I’m striving. I’m working. And I just haven’t figured out how to relax and not try to conquer the world, though I do know that’s already been done. And I want the perfect ending. The perfect few words to tie this all up and make you feel happy to go about your day, challenged but encouraged, but I’m not going to lie. Sometimes it’s just not there at the end of the day. And it’s more about pointing to Him and trusting that He’s holding your hand through the mess than knowing that it’s all going to be alright in the end.