I don’t think I believe in God

because if I did, if I really contemplated the mysteries of the universe and felt the weight of my insignificance…if I realized there was a creator who’d mapped out the stars and laid out the grassy plains, sculpted the craggy rocks and from infants’ lips ordained praise…if I understood that His foolishness was greater than man’s wisdom…if I considered His temple up in the high heavens, the train of His robe trailing in the throne room, a host of angels singing holyholyholy…if I marveled at His presence, if I knew He saw all things, that He searched my heart time and time again and grieved so that I might return to Him and repent of my sins…if I felt His unfailing love as He hung from a tree in the form of lowly man…

Then I wouldn’t be so


I wouldn’t be so proud standing under His probing gaze. I wouldn’t neglect Him. I wouldn’t misunderstand His plans for me. I wouldn’t mistrust Him. I wouldn’t lust after man. I wouldn’t care for man’s thoughts of me. I wouldn’t…

I wouldn’t be the same.

I wrote this piece way earlier on this year, but came to reflect on it again today. It’s been a tough season in my life, and often I find myself unable to articulate my thoughts. There is a numbness to the way I am living. There is also so much anguish and distress. In the words of the Psalmist, “my tears have been my food day and night.” Truly, I’ve never been so at a loss for words… frankly unable to explain myself, defend myself, uplift myself… when I pray in the mornings, I feel a heavy oppression come over my spirit.

Yet I know in my heart I have not stopped reaching out to God.

Yes, I pray less often. I cry less often. I…I’ve just changed. In my own heart, I don’t know whether this change has been for the good or bad, but I am choosing to trust that He works for the good of those He loves and has called according to His purpose. (Romans 8:28) I am choosing to believe that truly His love knows no bounds; I need the power to understand the depth and height and width of His love. It is unfathomable in and of itself.

When it feels I have run out and dry, He never runs dry. It is a season of humbling, of maturing, of anguish and unrest, of apathy…a season of complications and confusion. I wish it to be a season of letting go and letting God know that forever I am His. Forever and ever and ever.

“Because whom have I in heaven besides thee? And there is none upon earth that I desire besides thee.” (Ps 73:25) Come to think of it, I’m beginning to empathize with this poet quite well.