God, I am tired of this mess.
What are you doing here?
These are the questions of my heart, I pour them out in quick prayers over and over throughout the day.
I’m having a hard time, God.
I’m not sure that I know you that well anymore.
The only things I can think to pray are selfish, angry, hurt, and bitter.
Why are we here, God?
You must be doing something in this, right? Could you maybe show me soon?
My faith wears thin and I am clinging to promises that he is faithful when we are not, but barely.
We try church after church and don’t find much of you, God. Is that because you are not here or because I don’t remember how to look?
Why do I see you more clearly when I’m watching my daughter discover something new, or in the joyful bounds our dog jumps when we come home than when I’m sitting in a pew trying to look past the “show” and see your face?
I’ve grown up in the church. I’ve barely missed a Sunday in 26 years, until now. Now Sundays are really hard and when I actually find it in me to get to a church, whichever disappointment we’re attempting that particular week, I’m just discouraged. I have been on the “inside” of American Church Culture for the last 26 years, but for the first time, I’m on the outside, and I don’t like the view.
Where are you, God? I used to know you once. We used to walk together and now you seem far away. I can’t seem to find you in the places that proclaim your name. But you must be here?
Where are you, God?