Getting a little sick of myself and my moodiness of late. Too often I've been behaving as a spoiled child, complete with tantrums and pouting. There has to be some kind of middle ground-- higher ground-- between that and shutting down completely, a foundation of faith on which I can stand, even as I see and feel.
That's the thing: either of the other extremes is a way for me to respond in faithlessness. He will not take care of me, He does not love me, He has abandoned me, I must take care of myself. I live as if I have been left behind and to my own devices, poor as they may be. In many ways, I believe that more deeply than I believe the gospel.
Hope in Him, even though I struggle and cry. Hope in Him, even as longing and emptiness compete for the territory of my wild heart. Hope in Him, even when it would hurt less to give up hope entirely.
I've been given so much, been loved so much. God, forgive me for not being able to see that right now. Open my eyes. Heal my heart.