God,
I don’t know what to say..
I’ve been having conversations with friends about the current state of the world and what it means for our future generations. In having those conversations, I’ve experienced grief, sadness, anger, hope.
I know it won’t always be this way.
I want to do something. I don’t want to be a sitting duck. So, I write. I read. I create by Your grace. I try my best to remind myself and others to put on love, above all else—to focus on the heart of Christ, so our hearts might begin to look like Yours.
But somehow, I feel like a drop in an ocean of noise.
I don’t question my worth or the impact of the Holy Spirit coursing through my veins. However, I do wonder what it would be like if we, collectively, just paused for a moment—one inhale and one exhale.
To remember the source of the breath in our lungs.To remember the love of Genesis 1.
No, I’m not trying to escape. I see, I hear and can discern the times we’re in.
But what would it be like if we all just took a moment to rememberthat we are to love our brother,our neighbor,our friend?
Love.
Not the fabricated kind, or the kind that thrives in an aesthetic.Love that tells the truth.Love wrapped in compassion.Love that holds both sides accountable.
Love.
Not the cutesy kind—though that has its place too.But the kind that speaks to the outcasts and the ones far away.
Love that sets the table for a Passover meal with a few unhoused friends—stepping into their world for just a moment. Listening. Praying for their journey ahead. Allowing space for humanity and honesty.
So I pray.
I pray that though we may not have a solution,we don’t become the very thing we’re fighting against.
My heart cries, in a way only You could hear.
I feel it before I even understand it—a tightening in my chest.
Like a quiet, internal wringing,with nowhere for the insides of my heart to go.
Pressure builds in my chest,like a volcano waiting to erupt from my eyesas I make my tea.
There, at my kitchen counter—waiting for the kettle to whistle,pouring hot water over these loose leaves.
Feet bound to the cold wood floor beneath me.Spiraling through a future I can feelbut can’t yet see.
I couldn’t hold it back anymore.
With groanings too deep for words.
Not spoken.Still understood.
Without notice, prayers flow from my eyes—running down my cheeks.
Salty enough to preserve the moment.
No need to suppress.You already know what’s in my heart.You knew that volcano would erupt one day soon.
I’d rather stay in this moment than run from it.
Stay hereand let You finish the work You started in my heart.Bring clarity to my mind.
I don’t need words to describe the way my skin tightens when I know You’re here— how, from the weight of Your presence, I must cover my face.
I won’t run away from you, God.
I need You.I lay all of this at Your feet.
You said to remember You are with us until the end of the age.
You left me with that promise.
You are with me.You never left me.
Whether I’m having conversations with friends, heartbroken over headlines, or standing at the counter making tea while tears fall from my eyes—
thank You for this heart of flesh, Lord.
On earth, as it is in heaven.
You heard every word I couldn’t say.
In Jesus’ name,amen.
If this met you in a quiet place,you’re welcome to stay.
I write for those sitting with God, without rushing the moment. Subscribe for more journal entries, poems, reflections, and essays 🌸
