Here I Am

I wrote in my journal today that it scares me how human I feel. And it really does. In highs and lows of the past, I have found my voice in prayer and my comfort in God’s Word. Whether I’m praying the prayer of Elijah in 1 Kings or David in the Psalms. I embodied the truths I read and held onto them with every fiber of my being. Then, just shy of a year ago, my time with the Lord every morning stopped being so sensational and it just kind of plateaued. It’s like my recognition of the brokenness of people, and the church, and myself just shattered this glorious intimacy I once had with the Holy Spirit.

I stopped posting my writing because nothing that I wrote felt purposeful. It was too weak and scattered. Sure, it was vulnerable and raw but it wasn’t powerful. What’s the purpose if it’s not powerful? Even more, if I don’t feel an “appropriate” level of intimacy with God, then I probably shouldn’t be sharing my words with other people.

More friends than I can count have asked me why I’m not writing. I give flat excuses like I’m too busy, too much transition, blah blah blah. It’s because I’m weak. I am not powerfully praying prayers of hope and telling unbelievable stories of restoration. Nope. I’m actually waking up every morning with a mug of tea praying something along the lines of, “Alright Lord, here I am. I don’t really know what to say. Can you help my people who need you? Help me too.” And that’s about what it ends.

I’m left with uncertainty. I don’t know how to tie up the loose ends, I just know that there’s something really good about being a human. I don’t have to have answers. I don’t have to be powerful, inspirational or influential. I get to be humbled by the exceedingly gracious love of God. His love requires nothing more than my open hands to Jesus. So for now I will continue to say, “here I am and here I will be, through the confident days and the weak days.”