Show me LORD.
Show me.
Have I missed it? Have I understood the wrong thing all this time? Am I standing in the wrong line?
I’m wondering at it all—and You?
(Silence.)
Am I waiting on You?
Or… are You waiting on me?
I don’t remember where or when this silence started but, where will it end?
It’s Spring. Resurrection is in the air. Flowers and trees and birds are nice—but what I think I need is a resurrection in us.
My hope is buried. (Of that I have no doubt.) What I’m wondering…
Is there something left under all that mess?
Is there yet a crocus for all this sand?
Dead dreams indeed! This tomb, my heart. Perhaps I have turned to stone and yet, I keep my sentry post.
Why?
Why guard this heap of cold gray rock?
This road I thought I could endure?
Too long, too weary, I’ve become!
And all I’ve left—this tiny spark.
This smoldering wick stands on Your promise in weary wondering…
(Can a stone yet speak?)
The DREAM~MAKER’S Promise:
“O God, You are my God; Early will I seek You; My soul thirsts for You; My flesh longs for You. In a dry and thirsty land. Where there is no water.” Psalm 63:1 NKJV
The Caterpillar’s Prayer:
Oh Father, I’m too tired to pray.
Besides, I no longer know what I should pray for. The length of this journey has made me sick at heart.
All I can think is “Help me LORD… please, help me!”
