Dear God,
I wished I was
writing a love letter to you, full of rapturous worship and ecstatic praises…but no.
There is a rupture in my soul.
My spirit might be dismantling too.
I won't talk about my body, it gave up a long time ago (but am drinking lots of water and eating fruits and vegetables to stay put).
Rejoice at all
times and in all circumstances, they say, especially when going through trials and
tribulations….My problem with that, though, is that I wouldn’t be acknowledging
the human experience that is pain….I cannot cover up a wound with just a
scripture and keep walking with a smile, because Hallelujah life is great! What about being in touch with the reality I am going through? How can I heal from what I haven't acknowledged and/or felt?
Yes, pain has made me question
your presence; at the worst it made me question your benevolence too.
I cannot hide the fact that I
feel misled and abandoned. If you could abandon Christ at the cross, who am I, Lord? Who am I? Why were you silent when I faced humiliation, loneliness and
agony?
At least Jesus was warned; he knew that he will die. He knew that he
will face pain. He agreed to the eventuality of what was awaiting him. Well, I
wouldn’t have agreed to endure the things that were awaiting me. Not shame
again, not fear again, not anything that would break me to the core, again!
I
wished I was notified, perhaps with thunder, or one or two angels or a
scripture, something, anything.
I am greatly tempted to rely on
my own understanding, because maybe science, maybe psychology, maybe the basic premises of existentialism or even
rationality could explain what is happening to me. They may not tell me why it's happening, the purpose behind the
pain but at least they don’t promise any end; certainly not that it will work
out for my good. There are no promises, therefore there are no expectations and
my hope won’t be stirred up for nothing.
I felt fearless during those blissful spiritual moments, only to wake up in cold sweats and greeting anxiety. I found myself in a pit of darkness, so I walked around the edges of life holding on nothing but just the breath that came out of my being. It didn’t matter that time healed everything or that endurance produced character, and character produced hope. What is hope, when life is real and you are just trying to make it through the next minute?
I tried though. I read that we
should seek you but I am not even sure that I know where to look or what to
look for. I casted my care on you but my thoughts were submerged with fear and
confusion of what is, what is not, what will become. What was real, what was
an illusion? What is happening? Bubble burst. Are you there? Do you hear the
whispers of my frail prayers? Do you even care?
Sometimes it bothers me that we
cannot question you, simply because you are sovereign.
Are you really just? I
guess this shades a lot of light on my shattered faith or am intellectualizing you?
Again!
