Nearly a month it has been,
Since the last musings of this man.
Much has been tossed and hurled,
Not just at me, but at those I love most.
My knees are scrapped and bleeding.
My heart is sinking and fading.
And even though few things affect me directly,
I’m blinded by an eclipse.
Few have said it better,
Than the contemplative dreamer,
Stuck in the rabbit room forever,
Praying that the Kingdom would come.
“I wish that I was half the man I wish that I could be.”
A better husband, a better brother, a better friend.
A better son to earthly parents, assuredly,
A better son to a heavenly parent, more importantly.
And as the weight of my own limitations,
Drips from my forehead on to the floor,
I, too, long for a reckoning.
One that would heal these wounds on my shins,
And this sweat from my brow,
How long, oh Lord?
How long?
Yet you are here.
There is no weight of this world,
That I could carry on my own,
So even my struggles are a work,
Of your sovereign grace carrying me.
You have promised to finish your work,
Even if that seems like a far-off dream.
You have promised to wipe my tears and sweat,
But not before they water the ground of my growth.
And even when this weight is not a personal tragedy,
But a general feeling of fatigue
You’ve never left my side.
You don’t scoff at my lament.
You shine brighter so that I may see.
Somehow, some way,
In all situations,
You are enough.
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