I don’t know what it is that I’m looking so hard for, searching so constantly for, unceasingly, when I have a God who tells me that everything I need is to be found in Him. He tells me where to go; He tells me how to find it: it’s in Him. I know the one big thing I’m searching for is your peace, God, but even that I find directly in you and from you. You allow it to be made visible through your trees, your birds, your mountains, your still waters, but ultimately, it’s YOU, Lord. It’s you my heart wants, even when my head wants explanations to “whys,” and burning bush answers to my paltry prayers. It’s you who my soul was designed for. It is you who created this persistent thirst in my spirit, whose water comes to rescue my dry  mouth with your very own hands.

I don’t know why I fall apart when it would be so much less heartache to fall to my knees.

I don’t know why I think I can protect myself from life’s inevitable heartaches when there you are, telling me how much you love me. That you’re big enough to handle my biggest pains and heaviest weights. I don’t know why I worry about things like money when you’ve taught me how to be responsible and you’ve told me over and over again to enjoy my life. I long to visit cousins in Colorado, to feel a cool misty morning over the backdrop of the Rockies; to camp underneath the stars at the base of the Grand Canyon. But I feel like I shouldn’t spend my money on myself, or think I should save it for this, or be giving to that…

That’s not my voice, you say.
I am not the one holding you back.
I am not the bad guy here.
I want you to enjoy your life, the life that I gave you, forever, whether here on Earth or in Heaven above.

I want to cry; I feel so loved. I want to stop thinking about how it literally sounds crazy that God, an invisible being, can whisper words into my brain, bypassing the hairs you say you can count the number of. It doesn’t make sense. I can’t make sense of it. The more I try, the more I don’t know. The more I go along with it, and allow myself to be brought into wonder and awe and holy mystery and grandeur, the more expansive the world, your world, your kingdom, seems; the more deep your presence, the more I need you to be my answer for everything I can’t explain…

I don’t know why it is that I rush around, run to keep busy, doing tasks, creating to do lists, not sitting down, as if that’s what solves problems or hurts or nagging longings. I don’t know why I settle for these distractions when all you want is to be with me, to be with us, beside us, your child,  your beloved.

Everything you need is to be found in me, you say.

God, I think I’m finding myself in You. And I think I know what you’ve placed on my heart and want with my life. But what if the things I think are you and your will actually aren’t? Just because I think it is doesn’t mean it actually is. You know my heart better than I do. I think I need a blessing, a break, a “Yes” or “No” audible answer, a change of circumstance, a change of scenery, and you think I need a challenge, a chance to grow so that later on I’ll remember how you brought me through the difficulties I’ve faced, reminding me that I’m stronger than I think I am in You.

I know we’re searching, Lord.

Us.
Your creation.
We’re searching. You created us with this need for touch, need for human connection, need for wonder and rest and laughter and love, deep, deep love that is stronger than our own human ability to love.

And so I know this sounds utterly crazy, but tonight I say goodnight to you, like a father, like a mother, like a genuine best friend, like a pervasive and persistent lover. I no longer feel as though you’re far away; in fact, I can feel you right here in my chest. Don’t go. Please stay. I love you…