I remember the drops of sweat, like blood or tears falling. You travail in prayer.
Not seeking discernment, but the weight of sorrow, of suffering, of rejection and pain. Facing sin, separation, and the horror of betrayal.
I am sorry Jesus, so sorry you had to endure this for my sake. Not just “my people”, not just my ancestors, no for my sake.
I have violated your law from birth. I started not knowing you and growing up I never honored you. I still am only scratching the surface of loving you with all my heart, mind, soul and strength. Forgive me.
My passions, how do I surrender them? I can barely understand my motivations. How do I relinquish them? Fears about the future; feeling that I’m “missing out”; envy about advancement; anger about slights… pissing contests all around me. Death sounds easy compared to living a new kind of life.
I wish to draw near. Yet I too would have fled. I wish to be close to you, but like a moth to flame I feel the heat and back away or I get burned. Either sucks.
“Stay awake. Watch with me this one hour.”
I too long for fellowship. Come sit with me Jesus. Help me believe there is more to this world than I believe. Is life just this ugly battle for souls bereft of beauty? A striving to save from a bitter Spirit of death and destruction?
I long for a dance in the cool of the day. The joy and wonder of seeing your creative power. Not just seeing: experiencing, יְדַע “Yada” to know by experience, your creativity flowing in me.
Words not my own, words of wonder, words that break rock. A whisper that you are in.
Jesus teach me to speak. Release my tongue and my pen from the constraints of a broken soul.
Let me words move hearts.
See, there I go again grasping at grandeur. No, just a simple ditty of love for the King:
Walking the garden of rocks
skipping a stone intrudes
Splashing the circles emanate
time after time, repent or repeat.
Bow your head. Close your eyes.
Now you can see me.
Close your eyes again, silly.
Now you can hear me.
Open your heart, smell the rock.
Fresh petals cast down. Silky smooth.
Ouch, the thorn rends.
A single tear of blood upon the thirsty world,
the thirsty soul. It stains… clear.
Look a clean spot. Wash you sinner. Immerse yourself.
Be clean. I am willing.
AGAIN. REPENT AND REPEAT:
I AM willing.
Atheist to Elder 