On a cold Friday morning in January some years ago, I was at one of the lowest points in my life I had ever been. For some time before that day, I had told God I didn’t want him in my life. I quit attending church regularly, quit reading my Bible, and quit praying—with the exception of telling God to go away. Leave me alone.
My heart, as all of ours, is broken. I have really struggled with this travesty. I wasn’t even sure I could write anything about it or for it. This is my plea, my prayer.
Some days it’s hard to keep going. To keep hoping, wishing, longing, pursuing whatever dreams have crashed around you. But there’s always light. Light in the darkest dark and brightest brights. That Light is Jesus. Today I just want to publish this poem and let it speak to your heart from God’s heart through mine.
Rain drops fall softly upon the dry earth reviving and refreshing the air.
Breezes blow softly, the wheat field waving at the sun.
And down a little ways from the mountain a steady stream of water flows clear and free.
Lord, don’t let me miss You. Don’t let me get so into my own life, my own self, that I have become convinced You aren’t there. Remind me to remember that You love me and that You care.
“Come to me, Marcie.”
“I want to Lord.”
“But I don’t have a proper place to do it.”
“Just give me the place that you have.”
“It’s not that easy, Lord.”
“I have to clean off the table. I don’t have time and this thing I call a desk just isn’t big enough to hold both Bible and notebook…”
“Just give me the space that you have. I’ll take it from there.”
Six weeks to go. Just six weeks.
I couldn’t do it. Ready to quit, I turned off my computer, shut my books, closed my notebooks, and pushed my pencil out of the way.
Nope. Not happening. I was done.
Putting my head down, I thought about the next few months and years. And a question popped into my mind, “If you quit now, how will feel in six months? If you quit now, how will you feel a year from now?”