Every now and then, I click the ‘drafts’ tab on my “ALL POSTS” page out of a desire to diminish the disturbing number of posts begun and never completed.
My drafts folder is a graveyard of thoughts. Thoughts that I never had the time to flesh out or thoughts that I lacked the discipline to fully birth. And sometimes among the words that never made it – I find a draft that I don’t even remember writing, but that still feels so achingly familiar to me somehow.
So the words below are from a draft I stumbled across today. I can’t tell you what these words are about or where I was on the day I typed them. The experience they contain is not unique. Not to me, as my journals would attest. Not to you, as my email inbox will attest.
I pray as you read them today you will find in them the comforting news that we – the children of God – all struggle. We – all of us – are identified by a war inside ourselves. There are none of us who greet the dawn of each day with the same delighted energy and perfect faith. There are only those who will wrestle and wait and receive even the dark days with the confident assurance of light ahead.
There are days when this whole thing feels like a mess to me.
Like this random world of colliding molecules that cling to one another and give of one another and are torn apart by time or death and left less than what they once were.
There are days when this whole thing feels like a miracle to me.
Like this glorious world of colliding molecules given appointed times and days to wrap around one another and comfort with the pieces of Him that have been placed in all of us. And every wound is filled with Him and we become more and more able to give with the grace we have been given.
And I honestly don’t know which one today is.
I know that sitting here in this coffee shop I feel unbelievably disconnected to all that there is and recklessly knitted together to the people and places given to me.
And it’s overwhelming.
I know that sitting beside me are the words I’m supposed to study today. But they mean nothing to me. And I want them to mean more so much.
I know in them is the key to being seen, being known, which is knowing Him.
And I want to climb inside of them and hide. I want to hide from the plans on my agenda: the great ones and the draining ones.
I don’t know if anyone else ever feels this way. I don’t know if anyone else ever feels all these emotions around them in such a symphony of distraction.
I know that these words will never be posted. Because who I am to you is this girl who has it together and even her vulnerability is censored. God forbid she really speak. God forbid she really say that words she feels.
Words like: “I am so weary of feeling like everything I do is an act. Like none of it is real. Like I’m managing this huge play and at any moment the set will come crashing down, or the director will tell us to stop, and all the people that I believed for a moment were my friends will walk away and I’ll be left standing on this stage: so alone. So unsure of who I am and what is real.”
And I know all the right answers. And none of them are enough. None of them are enough to meet me here in this place and make my heart feel what I say it feels. And I’m so tired of stabbing it with scripture, begging it to bleed and seeing it stay stiff and unyielding.
May this blog comfort you: no temptation has seized you that is not common to us all, that isn’t known even by Him.
And be comforted with this news: the way you feel today will not be the way you feel always. The words I wrote here are not true for me today. Today I opened His Word with joy and delight. Today I wept over the love God has for me displayed in Christ. And so – when tomorrow brings dryness in my heart once more, I can be certain that the struggles of a day are not the struggles of all the days to come. This too shall pass.
The confusing chaos of this world will give way in this life or the next to the glorious clarity of Him.