Sometimes life looks like dry quiet times and empty, distracted prayers.
Sometimes God seems distant and you wonder what you’re doing wrong.
Sometimes you start being bold and calling Him out of hiding, but He doesn’t always work like that. Other times you ignore the issue because it’s way easier than admitting that you need to quit being a punk and do something about it.
Sometimes these things start to smack you square in the face, and you realize you need to do some damage control. Sometimes you sign yourself up for a mission trip and beg God to show Himself.
Sometimes that trip turns into you doing everything you can to get His attention. Sometimes your life looks like a desolate beach at 1:30 am, with nothing but the stars to keep you company. No human, no God. Only screams of desperation and urgency.
Don’t you see me? Don’t you care? Where are you? I thought You said You’d be with me!
Sometimes you realize God doesn’t seem like He’s speaking because deep down you really don’t want to hear the answer.
Sometimes life looks like one step forward and two steps back. Sometimes life looks like no footprints next to yours in the mud. Sometimes like looks like scrawls in the sand that make as much sense as an abstract painting. Your head is spinning, and the Artist is nowhere to be found.
I didn’t find God this week. I looked under every rock and behind every bush. I climbed every palm branch and combed through every grain of sand. I organized my disheveled drawers and cleaned up the moldy drains. I moved every couch cushion and checked under each floorboard.
But He was a little too good at playing hide and seek.
I couldn’t find Him, but I know He was there because I saw the way He was working in my friends’ lives.
I saw Him remind them of their worth He so graciously gives. I heard about His pursuit of them as they actively ran from Him. I knew He reminded them of their journey from death to life by turning scraped knees into healed scars. I could see Him wiping away the pain of their past with every breath of grace to fill their lungs. I knew He was working in ways that coincidences just couldn’t explain. I saw Him move in their hearts as the tears of redemption and vulnerability flowed freely. He tore down the walls of captivity and insincerity with every “me too.”
I know He’s real, I know He’s speaking, I know He’s here, and I’m confident He’s working because of these slivers of hope from those around me.
That’s all I’ve got to hold onto.
And that’ll have to do for now.
P.S. Want to hear about my first Beach Reach trip? It features Barbie, a set of homeless men, and my twin!
Want more of a real (and messy) post about my second trip? It features struggle and comparison and lies–oh my!
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