God's Desk

 This isn't a glowing report. It isn't a testimony. It isn't a praise report. It isn't positive, glowing, or exciting. It isn't an elegant dissertation. And it isn't even very good writing. I'm sharing life with you. Gross ugly life. And believe me when I say, this is not as ugly as it gets. It can get so much worse.  

I had a terrible meltdown on Friday night, the 18 of August. I'm struggling with a few things. I get told I'm strong a lot, but it isn't true. I used to think it was true. Because I should be dead a dozen times over. 

I was upset when I went to bed that night. I lay there for a bit, but was so upset that I got up and sat down on the edge of the bed. I tried praying and became so upset and really overwhelmed by the situation I found myself in. 

So, I talked to God and named all the things I'd prayed about and all the people I'd prayed for, and all the circumstances I'd prayed about. I asked God about those prayers. Did they even matter? Had anyone even heard me?

I have prayed the same prayers over and over, year after year, for the same people, places, and things. For needs, dreams, hopes, and desires. For healing, freedom, and forgiveness. Thousands and thousands of prayers. They cover a massive desk sitting right there in front of the God I gave them to. They're strewn everywhere. I knew he had heard me. And tonight, I could see them lying there.   

 I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I don't know what I felt, but seeing it was like a hammer blow or being ripped apart. I was gutted. 

Instantly, I knew that there was not a single prayer left in me. There was nothing left in me.

Please understand, I didn't see answered prayers. I saw all the unanswered ones. All of them. 

I was seeing every prayer I've ever prayed. Every prayer. I knew some by heart. All of them, for decades, already in his hands, several copies of some. Many bore annotations indicating a reduction in the requests, hoping that this would help. 

It didn't. They lay all over the place as if a great wind had tossed them about the room, and the desk was still covered.

I wanted to pray about what I was seeing, and I realized I couldn't. I couldn't think of a single thing to pray about that I had not prayed for a thousand times. I knew because I could see them. 

I've seen papers splayed out like that. I worked with files. A table covered in piles of paper for the person handling it to process. And there they were, all my prayers. Some people in those prayers were dead. Answers are no longer necessary. Nothing I could do would change the outcome now. No prayer could help. 

I sat on the edge of my bed, sobbing and staring at years of prayers that had no answers. And I'd just put one more on that desk when I saw them. And everything collapsed. 

I collapsed under the weight of it. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't stop crying. And I couldn't unsee that pile of prayers. And I wanted to pray about what I was experiencing. But I had no words and couldn't form a sentence. It's doubtful I could have uttered them if I had them.  My mind would not come up with any words to pray. I'll be honest, it was awful. But there was nothing. 

I don't want to tell you about that night. It had been an awful night. And I'd been sitting on that bed for two hours, crying so hard I could hardly breathe. 

Don't ask me to explain what I saw, or how, or why. I can't answer any of those questions. I was so distraught I sent a message to a friend at that point and asked them when they saw the message to pray for me. Because I could not even pray for myself. I just didn't have anything left. Not an ounce.

I don't have a biblical reference for what happened. I don't have a psychological reference. I'm not claiming that they don't exist. I'm saying I do not know. I just know what I witnessed. But at 2:30 a.m. I smothered the crying. I was done. 

I spoke into the air, empty air. 

I have no more prayers. None. The only thing I am asking you now is to be allowed to worship you. To give you praise and thanks. That's all. I have nothing else to ask of you. I don't have anyone else to pray for. I have no hopes and no dreams left. You have every prayer I've prayed. If they matter, you have them. I'm empty of them. I do not know why or understand. I'll just worship you. 

When I woke up the next morning, exhausted, bruised, and feeling as if I'd been dropped down an elevator shaft, I still had nothing to pray about. Nothing came to mind. So I just read my Bible as usual and gave my usual praise and worship to God. 

Maybe things will get better. Maybe. Maybe I will wake up. Maybe life will ... no. It won't. It's too late.

I used to have days when I thought, I can get through this. Tomorrow things will look better. This won't last. I'm strong and I can handle it. But I no longer believe in better. I've been living in survival so long, I don't know anything else.

I can't take many more nights sitting on the edge of my bed, blinded by pain and despair, and unable to breathe from the agony. 

Every prayer I ever prayed is sitting on that table before God. Prayers for people I loved, people I thought loved me, people who liked me, hated me and mistreated me. People I never heard from and some I don't even know. So many prayers. But they're out of my hands. I don't want them back. 

Then this week... Monday... September 28th, 2026. I opened a box that showed me my whole life was a lie. It was all smoke and mirrors—everything I had believed, trusted, and counted on went up in smoke. The very people I was sure I mattered to ... I didn't. 

Love is honorable. And if it isn't, it isn't love. 

So many people told me I was strong. I realized that was just a way of saying I was on my own. At no point did I ever matter to anyone. Everything I believed I had, I did not have at all.  

When the Battle is Over

 I ran away from home last night. I've had to do that before, and in the last eight months I've had to do it a lot. The only thing I can tell you is that the inclination to run was so strong that I thought I'd scream. So, I got in my car and drove away. Unfortunately, escape is not simple. In fact, you can't escape. I think that is the trigger for anxiety. It seems to be mine.

The last eight months: Two months of family crisis resulted in exhaustion, leading to a flare lasting months. A medication change that altered my mental and emotional state- numbing pain but creating mental chaos. Constant pain in my legs and back, not touched by medication since October. Very poor sleep. I had frenetic writing episodes that would last up to eight hours a day for three months. And anxiety attacks. All of it has affected my personal interactions with people, so changing churches and meeting new people was another trigger for chaos. 

I needed a cell but had an arena.

So, I ran away last night. Like Elijah, I had to get food into me since it had been hours since I had eaten. Hardee's is close, and they have small chicken wraps that are cheap and good. Protein is good when the body is under stress, something I keep forgetting. 

After I ate, I sat in my car and broke. Into a lot of pieces. Put on music, cried, and asked Jesus to please just sit next to me and hold my hand. I didn't know what else to do. I was at the end of a long road, all by myself. He'd already taken every person I would have called. No one was going to come rescue me from myself. 

And that's what I told him. 

I'm tired of the mental, physical, and emotional chaos, of the pain. I told him how exhausted I am with just being here and that I don't want to be here anymore. 

And it's all true. I've never been this tired, this alone. And I've never wanted to leave this much. 

Don't worry. I'll be fine. I was once told I'm a fighter. It'll keep you going even when you should stop. It will keep you up at night looking for the best way to handle what's coming at you. 

Hell knows you're a fighter, too. It makes you a target for every imaginable and unimaginable thing it can throw at you, physically, mentally, and spiritually. Sometimes, all at once. It wants to stop you. 

 It starts with minor battles. When you survive those, the battles get harder, larger, and inflict more damage. You're going to bleed. You're going to hurt. You're going to want to die. 

If you survive, eventually there will be bodies on the field. You'll lose so many people that the pain will almost destroy you. You'll see them fall, and you'll feel the loss in every cell. But you won't be able to stop fighting. Because a fighter never stops until the battle is over. 

There will always be that one battle where you want to quit, to lie down and stop the pain. The one where you're the only one standing in a field of destruction. But you can't stop fighting. The end is just beyond your ability to see, and the end is what you're fighting to reach. To a fighter, there's something at the end that will fix it all. 

I don't know how many more battles I can fight. I'm kneeling in a field of bodies, bleeding from wounds that no longer heal. And just over that hill right there are hordes heading this way. 

However, I'll get on my feet, pull whatever weapons I still possess close and keep moving. Everyone is gone. And I'm still hoping there's something at the end that will fix everything. 

I hope it isn't very far. I'm tired.

The Hidden Things

 So, how are you? 

You're kidding, right?

Not at all. You appear to feel better.

Well, if you pump enough of the right drugs into me... then I guess I'm feeling better.

Oh...

It's true. Pain levels have plummeted since they increased the pills.

That's not what I meant. 

Do you mind if I sit down? Thanks. I know what you meant. I'm fine.

Oh my. I thought that -

Look, it's been the worst three months I've had in 16 years. I've watched my life overturned... again. I've been in more physical pain that I have ever been in my 69 years. I felt more terror that I've known since I was a child. So, if I seem a little distressed, well, there's a reason.

You were very angry. 

Yes.

You're still vibrating with anger, but you're hiding it well. 

I'm not hiding it. If no one knows, they chose not to see. 

I'm sorry.

I'm not angry at you. 

Ah....

OK. I have been. I am. Can we not talk about this. It's excruciating.  

You think I failed you. That I don't care. Perhaps that I caused this?

No. Not that. I know you didn't cause it. 

..........

Did you fail me? I feel I did something wrong, and this is punishment. That my prayers were meaningless. No matter what decisions I made, no matter what prayers I prayed, and no matter what I did, there was no hope of a different outcome. Never. 

I understand. 

That. Does. Not. Fix. Anything. 

You're still angry.

This doesn't feel like anger. It feels like a huge, gaping wound where my life is pouring out. Not sure there is a patch big enough to fix that. I can't fix it. And when the prayers were prayed, so many prayers, so very many prayers, you didn't fix it. It lay there like a viper waiting to jump out and bite me. And here I am. I won't even talk about the pain. It's not anger. It's a roaring, raging pain. Sounds like anger, but don't worry. It's just pain.

You are important to me. You matter. You...

Don't matter. It's not about me! I don't care about me! That's what I keep saying. I don't matter. I care about the people I love. They matter. So if I rant and scream and rail against the things thrown at them, it's not about me. It's about them, and that is all that matters. If there's anger, it's because we don't get a choice about any of this. You know better than anyone about my life. It never mattered at all. 

I am grateful for all the wonderful moments I received. So very, very thankful. I'd have shot myself long ago had it not been for those shining moments that shone light in the darkness. I'm so thankful I can't even express it in words. But this, this thing ... I can't talk about it. It's monstrously ugly and I am so not capable of handling it. I can't handle it ever.

I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry. 

I know. 

#ConversationsWithHim

Me & Jesus

 I love this meme. I don't particularly think anyone has talked about me, don't actually care. It would be the most interesting conversation they'll have in a year. But I've learned some things this last year and this reminded me. 

People don't want to have a conversation with you to see what is happening in your life. They don't want to know how YOU are or if there is anything wrong. Really. Watch their eyes glaze over if you say anything other than "fine". But they're quick to find fault if something comes out where you're in trouble, sick, or broke. "Well, she or he must have done something wrong to cause all that. God is after them." 

Yep, He sure is. He's spent the last year keeping my head just above water cause the devil harassed me on every front for a YEAR. If he had his way, I’d be homeless, walking, and no food. I mean every single front. My house, my car, my finances, my family, my health, and my peace of mind. My sanity! 

Well, you know, "We all got problems." 

Why, yes, we do! Please tell me yours so I can pray for you. I sincerely want to hear and pray for you. And if I can help you with anything, you call me, email me, text me, send a carrier pigeon. If I can't help you, I'll do my best to help you find help. I know how to do that! If I can’t do anything else, I’ll hold your hand and walk with you.

But you know what? No one said that to me. And I mentioned what I was dealing with to people. (See paragraph two.) Not ONE. Except a dozen Facebook contacts. Some of whom haven't even met me and some family. Thank God for everyone of you who did something, even if was just a message to say you were praying! I believe in prayer, but it is an extra blessing when people hear, acknowledge, and act.

I texted a virtual stranger the other day; he was a guy who cut my yard for two years when the mower died. I only saw him once every two weeks as he flew by on the mower and chatting when I paid him. He cut me a deal on the yard. I sent a text that said, “I need someone who does handy man work.” The yard man sent me a contact. I found the yard guy from a writing friend because I had a broken down mower and he sent me the details. These folks have become real friends. I have no idea how much the handyman repairs I need will cost. I’ll worry about it later.

That’s just minor problems. But starting October 2023, I had covid for the third time and was sick three months, thru Christmas. The freezer went out. I’d previously lost two freezers of food because of a faulty circuit. It’s fixed now, and I didn’t lose food, but it cost the earth. The same week, the car broke down. That cost more. Two weeks later, it broke down again. All in October and November. In one month, I spent my entire income. All of it. And no, that wasn’t the end. There were plumbing problems after New Year. And the water and light bill went up again. Groceries went up. Gas went up. 

But you know something? I've survived all of it. Because the Almighty has kept me from drowning. Even when I asked Him to let me drown. Sometimes drowning is easier. He scraped up a handful of people I didn’t know well, some family who love me, and a precious new friend who needed help as well. She needed a place to stay, and I needed a boarder. It was miraculous. It’s both a pleasure to have her here and a blessing to have the help. And then Sarah came home. 

I’ve sat here in this house feeling so unloved. And so defeated. All my life, I had people around me I could go to or resources. I worked, took care of myself, supported a second household. I’ve been faithful in paying my tithes. Yeah, you can talk about that if you want to. Suddenly, there was NO money and no friends. If I had not had a credit card, I would have been in trouble. But I owed people. And borrowed money must also be repaid. The Bible says owe no man. I owe a bunch of them. And now I could add God to the list. I was in a very bad place in every conceivable way. And alone. No one knew because no one asked. 

I realized that I’d have to just do the best with the debts I owed to men. And the debt to God? That is far greater than my pittance. It is what it is. I didn’t ask for the circumstances. I sure didn’t ask for the problems. God is very aware of my bank balance. Every dime is His, the land I live on is his, the car I drive is his. I am his. If he wants anything I have, he can just withdraw it. I’m good with that. Really. This is not my home. This is a residence. 

This month, a small light shone on my little scrap of land. No, it isn’t all fixed. I got a call from out of town. Someone paid the house payment for one month! That one thing shifted things. For a minute, I thought everything would be fine. It’s gonna take more than a minute. But that one minute … it’s gold.

Then, today, while I sat here beating myself up, grieving over money, I decided to write it all down. To pour out the poison, that is one more trick in a long list from the enemy. So, I don’t have a problem. I’m broke. I don’t have trouble. I am doing something right or the devil wouldn’t be bothering me so much. I got broke stuff. It all belongs to Jesus so he’ll have to fix it.

And I’ve decided since I survived death, I will survive this, too. And I’ll do it alone. Just me and Jesus. Or with the people who hold out their hands filled with friendship, love, and prayer. 

Where Were You?

 

Where were you all this time?

What?

Where were you all this time? Things were bad. No, strike that. They were absolutely abysmal.

Oh, I've been with you.

What? No. No, you weren't.

But I was. If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there.

Oh....

Yes. Oh. Psalms 139 

1.O lord, thou hast searched me, and known me.
2 Thou knowest my downsitting and mine uprising, thou understandest my thought afar off.
3 Thou compassest my path and my lying down, and art acquainted with all my ways.
4 For there is not a word in my tongue, but, lo, O Lord, thou knowest it altogether.
5 Thou hast beset me behind and before, and laid thine hand upon me.
6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high, I cannot attain unto it.
7 Whither shall I go from thy spirit? or whither shall I flee from thy presence?
8 If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there.
9 If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea;
10 Even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me.
11 If I say, Surely the darkness shall cover me; even the night shall be light about me.
12 Yea, the darkness hideth not from thee; but the night shineth as the day: the darkness and the light are both alike to thee.
13 For thou hast possessed my reins: thou hast covered me in my mother's womb.
14 I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvellous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well.
15 My substance was not hid from thee, when I was made in secret, and curiously wrought in the lowest parts of the earth.
16 Thine eyes did see my substance, yet being unperfect; and in thy book all my members were written, which in continuance were fashioned, when as yet there was none of them.
17 How precious also are thy thoughts unto me, O God! how great is the sum of them!
18 If I should count them, they are more in number than the sand: when I awake, I am still with thee.
19 Surely thou wilt slay the wicked, O God: depart from me therefore, ye bloody men.
20 For they speak against thee wickedly, and thine enemies take thy name in vain.
21 Do not I hate them, O Lord, that hate thee? and am not I grieved with those that rise up against thee?
22 I hate them with perfect hatred: I count them mine enemies.
23 Search me, O God, and know my heart: try me, and know my thoughts:
24 And see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.

{sigh}

Well, I didn't mean to make you cry. I was only answering your question. 

I know. Could you maybe make a little noise though? Just in case I forget. 

#ConverstationsWithHim

Finding Faith

 

A few weeks ago, I appeared to be in the middle of a crisis. I didn’t know what was wrong with me, but a terrible depression enveloped me like locusts. Despite sleeping for 10 hours a day, I was exhausted and couldn’t think well. I woke up tired and went to bed tired. Naps lasted 2 to 4 hours, and I still went to bed tired. Keeping my laundry clean and changing the sheets became insurmountable efforts. Becca came and helped clean the cat boxes and floors. I don’t know what I’d do without her sometimes. An ex-daughter-in-law who does things like that for you is a rare treasure. She owes me nothing, yet she helps when needed.

There were a lot of things going on in my life at the time and since Jerry died, I don’t cope well. I’m sorry if you think you get over it, but the trauma of seeing someone die the way he did doesn’t go away… ever. Stresses, of any sort, just about slay me. Believe me when I say that is not who I was prior to January 2009. 

However, I suspected the problem had a physical source. The spiritual realm saw it as an opportunity to jump on me with both metaphysical feet. When this happens, it is nightmarish. It is a dark, lonely road and I am alone. No, really. Alone.

Yes, I prayed. I had long, rambling conversations with God about all my troubles. I ranted. He listened. I read my Bible, looking for answers. Found nothing helpful. I asked questions he didn’t answer. I cried and cried and cried. For days, I’d find myself just torn in pieces. 

Despite what they tell you, you do not find solutions to every problem in the Bible. I’m sorry to disillusion anyone. They’re not all there. What you find are ways to cope with the unanswerable questions. You find direction in how to navigate a world where some problems aren’t ever solved and never will be solved. 

One evening, I addressed the subject of faith. Sometimes I feel stupid talking to someone who isn’t visible. I only do that at home… usually. I have done it in my car and once a passenger asked me about it.

Anyway, I reached a place where I was so frustrated. I said, “I don’t even know what faith is! I can’t say that to anyone because they’d quote Hebrews 1:11 ‘Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.’”

“What does that even mean? It makes no sense and is confusing. There is no substance of something you hope for. They don’t exist except in the mind! Something not seen has no form.”

I’m sure I didn’t word it exactly that way, but that was the basic content of my rant. Hear me, God doesn’t mind your rants. God understands them. Jesus ranted in the temple. He used a whip on them. So, he gets rants. Believe it or not, he responds to them nicely. He remains silent and lets you get it out of your system. 

My only option at this point was to open my Bible and show him what I was talking about. (Cause he must not have read that verse, of course.) I explained I didn’t know what it was and didn’t understand it and that I must be a terrible person and going to hell because maybe I didn’t have any faith at all and without faith it is impossible to please Him………. 

I can’t say how long my rant lasted. I was hurting, so it probably wasn't long. My heart hurt and I had a weary mind and a troubled soul. My body was feeling the effects of those locust feet. Still crying, I decided the best I could do was just go to bed. 

I’ve started reading a section of Psalms over the last few months. Prayer in dark places is difficult, and I found it impossible to find words to pray that didn’t sound self serving and repetitive to me. David did a better job of praying than I could ever hope to emulate. I dried my tears and read.

The passage I read was Psalms 119:33-50. You should read it. 

    33. HE. Teach me, O LORD, the way of thy statutes; and I shall keep it unto the end.

    34. Give me understanding, and I shall keep thy law; yea, I shall observe it with my whole heart.

    35. Make me to go in the path of thy commandments; for therein do I delight.

    36. Incline my heart unto thy testimonies, and not to covetousness.

    37. Turn away mine eyes from beholding vanity; and quicken thou me in thy way.

    38. Stablish thy word unto thy servant, who is devoted to thy fear.

    39. Turn away my reproach which I fear: for thy judgments are good.

    40. Behold, I have longed after thy precepts: quicken me in thy righteousness.

    41. VAU. Let thy mercies come also unto me, O LORD, even thy salvation, according to thy word.

    42. So shall I have wherewith to answer him that reproacheth me: for I trust in thy word.

    43. And take not the word of truth utterly out of my mouth; for I have hoped in thy judgments.

    44. So shall I keep thy law continually for ever and ever.

    45. And I will walk at liberty: for I seek thy precepts.

    46. I will speak of thy testimonies also before kings, and will not be ashamed.

    47. And I will delight myself in thy commandments, which I have loved.

    48. My hands also will I lift up unto thy commandments, which I have loved; and I will meditate in thy statutes.

    49. ZAIN. Remember the word unto thy servant, upon which thou hast caused me to hope.

    50. This is my comfort in my affliction: for thy word hath quickened me.

There are following parts of of Psalms 119 I also read sometimes, but this is basically my bedtime prayer. And this night I read this section. And was smacked between the eyes. 

“Remember the word unto thy servant, upon which thou hast caused me to hope.”

I stumbled over that and cried again. I looked further back into the passage. “... for I trust in thy word”

Remember the word to your servant, which you caused me to hope in and in which I trust.

Faith. Faith is the substance of things hoped for. Remember your word that caused me to hope. I trust your Word. This is my comfort in my affliction! You gave me your word, made me hope in your word. And I trust your Word. 

I don't believe I need to say anything else. You get it.

Blue Sky Promises

I am so hungry.

Well, there sure is a lot of food on that table. Where do you want to start?

It isn't real.

So, what is the real problem here? You're hungry. What are you hungry for?

That's just it. I don't know. I've wracked my brain trying to figure out what is wrong and . . . it eludes me.

I've had several calls from you. 

Well, at least now I know you got them.

Now, let's not be flip.

I'm just trying to let you know how I feel.

I got that message, too.

There is this enormous gaping hole I can't fill. And it seems to grow larger every day. I think . . . I think that . . .

That?

I think I'm overreacting and no one really cares, anyway. It's been a pretty rotten day. I slept badly last night and didn't get enough sleep. I got up and had coffee and I fell asleep reading my Bible. I was so tired. I must have slept badly in the chair. A storm moved in and I woke up feeling as if a truck had hit me. I've not been well since.

...

What? No advice? Nothing?

What do you want me to say?

What do I want you to say? Really? I don't even know what I want. Do you expect me to know what you want? In fact, I think that's the problem. What exactly do you expect from me? I'm pretty much useless. I can't do anything I wanted to do. I'm so isolated that I could be on an island and no one would even know. I was in the kitchen and Sarah asked me who I was talking to! I don't even know anymore when I talk out loud to myself or am talking in my head. What do I want you to say? Well, anything would be nice. Or maybe it wouldn't. If it isn't nice, I don't think I want to know. I've had enough of the other stuff.

You're tired. 

I am more than tired. I'm wasted. Hollow. Vacant. Void. Empty. Deserted. Abandoned.

You're not deserted or abandoned. 

Look around here, please. I want to go home and it doesn't even exist anymore except in my head.

You're homesick?

... I don't know. No. It is deeper than that. I want to go back and do one thing differently so that everything will be different. I want what is lost. I want what can't ever be. I want things the way they were before they went wrong.

I see. That's a terrible place to be. An impossible place.

I want to fix all the broken things. And they're all broken. Everything is broken. Even me. And I don't think, no, I know that none of it can be fixed.

You probably ought to think about a new name for this blog. It isn't what it used to be.

Wow. Well, neither am I.

You can't go back. The road only goes forward. You can choose to sit down and stay here. But ... it is a pretty drab spot. Lots of gloomy clouds, darkness hovering just over that hill, and I can't stay here with you. If you stay, you will be alone. 

I know. There is nothing left back there. I watched it burn.

I promise you, there are green pastures ahead. Cool streams. Blue skies. You'll get thru the dark. 

Don't tell me to be patient, please.

I won't. I heard the joke.

#ConversationsWithHim








Note: the joke is "I had patients. They all died."

Who Are You?

I had a thought recently. I can't remember what led to it but I think it was something I read. At any rate, this verse came to mind. 

What then did you go out to see? A man dressed in fine clothes? Look, those who wear fine clothing are found in kings' palaces.  But what went ye out for to see? A prophet? yea, I say unto you, and more than a prophet. Matthew 11:8-9

The verses are a part of a statement issued by Jesus about John the Baptist. The disciples had come with a message from John asking if Jesus was, in fact, the Messiah.  He sent the disciples back to John with a clear answer. He related his miracles, which in essence said, "Yes, that's who I am."

It occurred to me that a lot of people are asking that same question even today. "Who are you?" The question sounds simple but I suspect it is visceral, rather than just curiosity. Perhaps it is incised on our souls and we can't help but ask it?

If you read the whole chapter, you can see that Jesus gives an overview of how the people received John and compared it to his own reception. They saw John's stellar but stringent life and called him a devil. They saw Jesus living life just as those around him, working, spending time with his family, associating with all manner of people and called him a drunkard and a glutton.

I can hear the priest, their voices scathing and looking down their long noses. "Who are you?"  I can hear the cripple, his voice stressed and eyes pleading. "Who are you?"

The frightened, the lonely, the destitute, the wounded, the broken, the dejected, the hopeless, and the lost in the middle of their despair, have screamed the question. "Who are you?"   On my worst days, when the pain is so bad I can't cry, when my body hurts, my heart hurts, and my mind can't hang on to a clear thought I ask the same question. "Who are you?" 

Yes, even those who have believed all their lives have moments when we ask that question. I'm sorry if it offends anyone, but if you say you never asked, I won't believe you. Everyone has experienced a time when the bottom drops out of their world and they don't know which way is up. It is a cliched experience that we all have at some point. Don't worry if you haven't, you will. And in the middle of that moment, when all seems lost and broken, and confusion is smothering the life out of you, the question will be there. From the deepest, darkest core of your being, something will whisper in desperation, "Who are you?"

At some point, you'll hear it. It may not happen instantly. In fact, it may be hours, days, weeks, or years before you hear it but if you're listening, you'll hear it. It will be like a whisper on a breeze, floating into your mind when you are so overwhelmed with life that you can't help but think it.

"Who are you!"

We're not the first to ask.

"Who is like You among the gods, O LORD? Who is like You, majestic in holiness, Awesome in praises, working wonders? Exodus 15:11

All my bones shall say, Lord, who is like unto thee, which deliverest the poor from him that is too strong for him, yea, the poor and the needy from him that spoileth him? Psalm 35:10 

Who is like unto the Lord our God, who dwelleth on high, Psalm 113:5

You'll find the answer buried in the dark and despair, beneath pain and grief, and the weight of hopelessness. You'll have to rip open the wounds, uncover the fear, and relive the thing that brought you to this place. You'll have to dig to find it. For all precious treasures are buried beneath the weight of the world. Hidden from all but the determined seeker.

Who did you come to see?

Great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised in the city of our God, in the mountain of his holiness. Psalm 48:1

For the Lord is a great God, and a great King above all gods. Psalm 95:3 

Ah Lord God! behold, thou hast made the heaven and the earth by thy great power and stretched out arm, and there is nothing too hard for thee: Jeremiah 32:17

Sorting

Wasn't sure you'd show up.

I always do, eventually. 

Been a strange day for me and I don't really understand it. I'm not sure what I'm feeling or even thinking.

Is there a problem bothering you?

Ha, ha, ha! There's always a problem bothering me.

All right. Let me have it.

That's funny. You know, I'd never have guessed you had such a great sense of humor.

Why not?

Oh, I don't know. Might have been the flood or turning people into salt shakers. Kind of lost me on the humor there.

Actually, it was a block of salt and ... well, only one person. She was warned, too.

Oh, yeah. Have to admit the bears eating the kids was kind of funny.

Riiiigghhtt. But you're serious about a problem, right?

Oh, I think it is just the same old thing. Some of it is really stupid stuff. I don't actually want to put on the blog.

Well, I'm surprised at some of the stuff you already put on here.

Uh... is that a joke?

No. 

Oh. OK. I'm just confused on some things and I don't actually know how to clear it up. And yes, I've already been reading the Bible. A lot, actually. It hasn't helped.

Hmmm.

Sister Fletcher, you remember her, she once told me not to try and figure out things but just keep reading and eventually, it would come to me when I needed it.

I suspect she was right. You've had that experience before.

Yeah, but seems like I've become more confused rather than less.

Or maybe you're just impatient. 

{sigh}

Sorry. 

It doesn't matter. I don't even know why I'm writing this. It isn't helping at all. Some of what I intended to address I can't remember now. Waited too long. Probably won't publish this tonight.

Sleep on it. 

**********

I did. Sometimes even sleep won't fix things. I wrote this a couple of weeks ago and things haven't really changed much. I still don't know what is going on but I've simply put it down and left it there. Whatever is bugging me will work itself out.

That or I'll go nuts.

Sometimes you just have to leave the problem to fend for itself. You can't really run away from your problems but you can deliver them to God and let him deal with them.

Yeah, easier said than done. You're talking to the perfectionist fanatic who can't let go of anything. I've got to fix it. I've got to manage it. I've got to take care of... Yeah, that's me. And it leads to the conversations you see above. I'm trying to put things down more. It isn't easy and it is so easy to slip back and pick it up again.

I had a conversation last night. I won't recount it all here but I remember saying that I'm at the end of my rope. There is enough on my plate to feed a small third world country. Probably two of them. What do I have to worry about? I've got food to eat, a warm, dry place to sleep, amenities to make my life so much easier than that third world country. My problems probably wouldn't seem very serious to someone over there. They probably aren't really important to you, either.

I remember a preacher named R. W. Schambach that always said, "You don't have any trouble. All you need is faith in God." I used to listen to him on the radio way back. I discovered his broadcast at a time in my life that I needed spiritual nurturing. I always wanted to think that way but it is pretty hard in the middle of trouble. If I think real hard, I know that I don't have any trouble. I have thorns in the flesh that irritate me but I think I did learn that if I can just let it alone it will heal itself.

Not every problem will fix itself, though. Your problems are probably really bad. I don't have a clue what you're dealing with at all. The children are a problem, the husband's a problem, the neighbors are a problem, your sister-in-law is a problem. Even your sister's husband's uncle's daughter is a problem.

Yeah, I've had those, too. The kids, husband, neighbors, family members have all been a chore to deal with at one time or another. In my family, crazy relatives are our only source of entertainment. And grief. I found if I just let it alone, most of the time, God will handle it.

I wonder sometimes what people are thinking when they do certain things. I wonder sometimes what I was thinking. Most of the crazy things I've done I've kept to myself but I have this overwhelming sense of guilt that constantly eats at me so I don't forget. I don't have any idea how many times I've told God how embarrassed I am about some things only he knows about. But there it is.

There are things I'm trying to stop doing. No, I'm not drinking or smoking or partying. I'm pretty boring. There are just some things that I want to eliminate in my thinking. See, I know how to live for God but there's a lot more to it than what you do. There are all these things in my head that I have to deal with and a there's a lot I'd like to clear out. I've reached a point where I've decided to stop asking for some things and stop entertaining certain things in my thoughts. Truthfully, they aren't things a single person would think anything about. They're just things I think.

I have no point to this post but maybe someone will get something out of it. It is mostly trying to sort it all out. I don't think I have yet. Maybe I won't ever.

#ConversationsWithHim

Just Me

Things have not gone exactly as planned.

I see. Whose plans?

Well. . . I expected the surgery to fix my problem. That was the plan I had in mind.

They told you that might not happen.

They did. I thought you'd be involved in this, too.

I was there.

I know. I was never afraid at all and I expected to be a little nervous. I wasn't. I was talking about afterward.

You're disappointed.

Ya think? I still have an arm that is dipped in boiling water most of the day. When it isn't, it is simmering. So, disappointed is an understatement.

.....

I watched a video of a girl being healed yesterday. It was amazing. Awe inspiring, even.

......

I don't think I know what faith is and that's distressing Is it belief you will or belief you can? Because I know nothing is impossible for you. I also know you don't do everything you're asked. So believing you will doesn't make it so. Believing you can if you choose... well that's different. I think it is your choice. If you don't want to do something, no matter how much I believe you will won't change that.

How does that make you feel?

Sad. Disappointed. Frustrated. Confused. Because I don't understand which it is and it makes it impossible to know what to do.

.....

I'm being truthful, here.

I know.

I hate when they quote that scripture about faith being the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen. I have no idea what that means. I've researched it and I don't think anyone else does either.

That could be true.

This isn't helping me.

Oh, I think it probably is. You usually come up with something.

Not today. Today is dark, wet, cold. Without faith it is impossible to please God.

You've had answers to prayers. You believe.

......

Just not always the answers to the prayers that mean the most to you. 

Things that involve me. I prayed for Sarah a few days ago for some severe jaw pain she was having and she came running down the hall five minutes later, wrapped in a towel saying, "My jaw doesn't hurt anymore!" That meant something to me. I've prayed for myself.... Repeatedly. Without the same results and I'm kind of tired.

Everyone has that feeling at one time or another. When the journey gets rough, find a place to rest.

Rest! That's a whole 'nother blog post.

You trusted me in the surgery, when they took knives to your spine. Why is it you don't trust me in this moment.

I don't know. I don't think it is a trust issue.

Then what is it?

Just me.



#ConversationsWithHim