You promised me
that my time of wandering around in the wilderness will come to an end. You promised me that I will enter the promised Land, and leave the barrenness and dryness and dust and despair. You promised me that barrenness will turn into fruitfulness. That it will be a land flowing with milk and honey and that my labour will not be in vain. You promised me that You are mindful of me and You care for my needs.
Keep Your Word Please.
It seems that everyone around has secret timelines, hidden agendas and plans that they mask. In church, at work, and at home. Walking through this fog of impermanence and impenetrability…drags me down. More and more, I’m tempted to withdraw and stop trying to feel. It’s becoming an overwhelming struggle to bare your soul and then realise that nobody will be there for you when you need them to be. I’m tired of people who are either unwilling, unable or both unwilling and unable to strive beyond themselves.
It is that additional aching, surging effort that makes the difference between integrity and falseness, both artistically and relationally. Who sees that anymore? You see, meaningful connections are harder to form than we realise. Probably because when it actually happens, it feels so natural and effortless. So much so that we think that “This is the way it happens and should happen! How nice!!” And we never pause to marvel that so many things could have gone wrong and prevented that connection from forming, but somehow, the combination of factors fell into place this time round. And a miracle took place.
I need a miracle now.
Keep Your Word Please.
It seems that everyone around has secret timelines, hidden agendas and plans that they mask. In church, at work, and at home. Walking through this fog of impermanence and impenetrability…drags me down. More and more, I’m tempted to withdraw and stop trying to feel. It’s becoming an overwhelming struggle to bare your soul and then realise that nobody will be there for you when you need them to be. I’m tired of people who are either unwilling, unable or both unwilling and unable to strive beyond themselves.
It is that additional aching, surging effort that makes the difference between integrity and falseness, both artistically and relationally. Who sees that anymore? You see, meaningful connections are harder to form than we realise. Probably because when it actually happens, it feels so natural and effortless. So much so that we think that “This is the way it happens and should happen! How nice!!” And we never pause to marvel that so many things could have gone wrong and prevented that connection from forming, but somehow, the combination of factors fell into place this time round. And a miracle took place.
I need a miracle now.
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