When the wind is knocked out of me in the wake of discouragement.
When I want to run to a place of solitude, and never look back.
When I’m struggling to hear God’s voice.
When I’m tired and my head hurts and I want to pummel a soccer ball or hit a wall or smash a glass jar (it’s satisfying).
When I want to curl up in my bed and cry and refuse to re-enter society.
When I feel like I am not doing enough.
I run to my Creator. I run faster than I have ever run before. Sometimes this looks slow. Often it feels more like drudgery than a lifeline. I am dragging my broken spirit to my Lover, seeking healing I cannot find anywhere else or in anything else or from anyone else.
I am frustrated. I am discouraged. I am exhausted. He is enough.
When I want nothing more than to sit in a filthy pit of self-focus, I find myself delving into His word, painfully peeling my eyes off of my own problems and focusing on who He is. When I am not constantly reminding myself of who my untouchable Creator is, my own questions and discouragement fill my soul.
Wave after wave of lies slap the shore of my view of God, wearing away and claiming pieces of my heart. So I come before my God and I weep and I question and I lay before him as a broken and worn vessel. He picks me up and holds me tight. Cradling my brokenness, He tells me He is good. He is the creator. At the beginning of time, he breathed the universe into existence; and here He is – holding me. The waves of this broken world crash around him. They cannot move Him, shake Him, touch Him. As He holds me close, whispering sweet assurances of his ability, my waves cannot touch me. They cannot break me, shake me, or destroy me. In the arms of my Creator, I am untouched by the waves of this world.