you probably know he hasn’t forgotten about you, but sometimes it feels like he has anyway, doesn’t it? the promise you’ve held close has withered and grown cold; the vision, the dream, the hope that burned like prometheus’s gift, now sits abandoned, like a bonfire on the beach that has been doused by the tides.
it’s easy these days to find empty promises, slick slogans to attempt to jumpstart your faith. it’s as easy as sowing a faith seed, speaking your promise into being, thanking God for what he’s going to allow your faith to manifest. we are encouraged to become our own personal witch-doctors, conjurers of a reality that isn’t real at all. at least not yet.
the alternative, though more real, and i would daresay more God-honoring, is decidedly more painful, too. the alternative is simply to wait, to sit, to try to stand, to ignore the voices in your head telling you that you were wrong, it’s too late, death really is the end.
it’s alright that it feels like he’s forgotten you. Jesus felt that way, too, and he doesn’t condemn you for your doubt, for your despair, for your questions. he’s been there, and it’s okay.
being in the shit, as it were, is not tantamount to being in the wrong place, unless of course joseph and daniel and mary and john and jesus found themselves in the wrong place, too. the harrowing reality is that the right place for us may sometimes also be the hardest place for us. this is the eternal truth of life coming from death, dawn breaking from dark, gain borne from loss.
you probably know he hasn’t forgotten about you, but sometimes it feels like he has anyway, doesn’t it? i know. me, too...