written 9/27/2017, shortly after beginning my sophomore year in college
you have made my heart glad where it used to be sorrowful. you have put new songs in my soul, songs that sing of your unending goodness to me. who am I that I should enjoy the movement of pine trees framed against the white sky? that I should enjoy a bike ride, or words written about the sensation of crying, that one’s vision was “diamonded“? who am I that you should care about my sickness, my humor, the hairs on my head? that I should see the gnats shining briefly, illuminated by the afternoon sun, or enjoy the diversity of friendship, even get so close to another being as to be hurt, to feel the tender warmth of hands placed on shoulders during prayer? oh who am I?
Even now in gratitude you’ve baffled me. That I would’ve known myself apart from jealousy or insecurity–oh, what have you done? So peacefully you’ve led me here, along straight paths. I thank you, O Lord, with a song from my heart, the song you yourself wrote–a song of victory as you gave it all for me.
Thank you, Jesus. Keep making me distraught over people who don’t know you. I’m hurting because you hurt, O creator of good, you looked upon the unmarred and loved us. We marred it. You made a way to see past the brokenness, the bruises, the beating-up-of-ourselves in the long night…now you hurt alongside us and care deeply, deepest, oh the depths of your love unsearchable.
You’ve made me myself. I thank you. I need you. Every breath I take–may it be a prayer unto you. And when you look at me, Father, I pray you see weakness. When you look at me, Father, I pray you see a need for you. And when you do see, come quickly. Hasten to help me. Do what you want to in me, around me, through me…make yourself undeniable in my life and let your work result in greater praise and glory given to you. Now I know not how prayer works or why some people (like myself) are meeting in pre-prayer meetings, talking about, breathing you, while others know not that they are headed towards the grave–intellectualism, humanism, self-delusion, sexism, racism… Lord, I don’t know your ways, only that your ways are good.
Make me less. Lord, I give eloquence of speech to you, friendliness to you, health and comfort to you–if anything makes me “me” apart from Jesus, refine me and make me a better vessel. Bring more people to you. They need you. Thank you for revealing the truth to me, for saving me when I was in darkness. You are my favorite, the only lover who can love so well. I need you. I need you. Thank you Jesus.
It’s strange to reread my ramblings and scary to post them online. To be fair, I keep this blog (?) relatively anonymous because I’m afraid I’ll censor myself more, the more people know who’s writing. (Why?) I wish to share my writing, whether free-flow and journal-y like this or refined and research-y, with others more in the coming year. I think writing is itself an act of connection, even if only to a future or past self, as in this case…
The truth is, I don’t feel so deliriously joyful as I did on Sept 27th right now. I feel farther from it, and I struggle. But by chance (haha) I went looking through my writings from this past year, and felt encouraged, felt a longing for the deep intimacy I’d enjoyed with Christ and the fullness, the freedom, I’d consequently experienced. Jesus is faithful and real and good even when I’m the exact opposite of all those things. I think it’s important to reflect on reflections, and I wish to grow the courage to share more of myself to those who think they know a lot about me already. To share more of myself in various states.