I found this in my journal. I wrote it about 4 months ago while I was at Ambrose.
Broken. That’s what I am. I am utterly exhausted; I feel like every step drags me down further and further. It’s the dry seasons that exhaust me because I just feel like Christ isn’t enough. I am parched. I feel as though I am dying as I seem to walk further and further away from my creator. My thirst for the revelation of Jesus Christ is killing me, but I just feel as though I am not hearing his voice. I’m not feeling His gentle touch. I’m walking through this dry barren land…Broken.
Broken. That’s what I am. I am utterly exhausted; I feel like every step drags me down further and further. It’s the dry seasons that exhaust me because I just feel like Christ isn’t enough. I am parched. I feel as though I am dying as I seem to walk further and further away from my creator. My thirst for the revelation of Jesus Christ is killing me, but I just feel as though I am not hearing his voice. I’m not feeling His gentle touch. I’m walking through this dry barren land…Broken.
Broken because I think I can do this alone, when in reality I can’t.
Broken because my feet hurt as I try to make this journey alone.
Broken because my heart just can’t handle this anymore.
And just when I think, ‘that’s is, I can’t do this anymore’ a gentle breeze tickles my check and I am quickly reminded that yes, he is good…So I take another step. It’s still hard and painful and my legs feel O…So heavy. I tell him I can’t go on and he shows me a small glimpse of his majesty: A sunrise, or a flower, or the sun over the cold, snowy river and I take another step. He beckons me to continue. My weak fragile bones scream at me stop, but I can’t stop. I must fight. Fight to feel close to him, fight to know he is tangible and alive and good… And then I collapse, knees buckle, exhaustion overtakes me, and I fall.
Broken, I fall into his outstretched arms and he gently catches me. I rest in the beauty of his presence and he brushes the hair out of my glistening eyes. He whips the tears from my tear stained cheeks and tells me I am beautiful. He calls me his daughter and he beckons me to rest.
Broken I come into his presence. Broken and exhausted, drained and sick, my emotions so raw. Yet, in the midst of all of this he whispers his deep, deep love for me even in the core of all my dirt and trash.
Beautiful. To him, I am truly beautiful.
I haven't written in this blog for a long time. I write everyday, but they are scrambled thoughts put in the tattered pages of my journal. I don't feel broken like I used to. I am learning to listen to the voice of Jesus. I am learning to pursue His heart above everything else. I am learning to live in the moment.
The past 6 months have been challenging, but the challenge has been worth it because each day He gives me a little bit more of His heart.
I haven't written in this blog for a long time. I write everyday, but they are scrambled thoughts put in the tattered pages of my journal. I don't feel broken like I used to. I am learning to listen to the voice of Jesus. I am learning to pursue His heart above everything else. I am learning to live in the moment.
The past 6 months have been challenging, but the challenge has been worth it because each day He gives me a little bit more of His heart.
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