a letter to you tonight

Posted: June 9th, 2011 | Filed under: life | Tags: , | No Comments »

Nights are the hardest, aren’t they? No distractions from the accusations. It’s worse when you think they’re coming from you. If only you could go back in time, wake up tomorrow and do it all different. Oh, but the horror of knowing you can’t.

At first it was denial. Time stopped for a second and let the shock set in.

And then, when you couldn’t deny it anymore, when life lost it’s color, you started to plead. “Please let me go back. You’re God, you can do anything. I’ve learned my lesson. Give me another chance.”

But He won’t. You wake up under a sun that shines on everyone but you. It’s still the same. You still did that. And your whole world is gathering together to mourn your loss, and talk about your secrets, and figure out life without you. You want to rip from yourself, to feel love again. You want someone to cry with you, to hold you, to feel what it is to be you.

No one will look you in the eye, though you beg for them to. “See me. See all the words I can’t find. See what is happening inside.”

Listen to me. You are mourning. Life is going to be different and you will get used to it. Every time you look for someone who is no longer there, you will be reminded like a volt of horrible shock to every part of your existence. And then you will wither at the knowledge that it’s all your fault. It’s part of it. When you feel like giving up, remind yourself that you need time to mourn the loss of who you were. It’s a process. It’s not the end.

Look up the stages of mourning. You’ll find where you are in the process. You know what may be hard to believe right now? You are dying the death that we all must die to really live. Isn’t that crazy? I’ve said this before, “They don’t call it death for dramatic flair.” It’s real, so real you doubt the hope of these words.

You are going to sprout something new from this. You’ll become what you were always supposed to become.

Listen carefully: Unless a grain of wheat is buried in the ground, dead to the world, it is never any more than a grain of wheat. But if it is buried, it sprouts and reproduces itself many times over. – John 12:24

You are dying. You’ve said it yourself. Try to grasp what I am saying. This is a good thing. You are going to sprout and become part of something so much bigger than you. You know, this death to you is the only way you can get into The Kingdom. Did you know that? Think of every scripture you were taught and watch them all come to life. Feel the words blossom in your heart. Let the truth set you free.

Of course it was sin that got you here. Isn’t that the way it works? You have to know your own sin to really know the Savior. And, yes, I know you knew better. We all do. It’s written on our hearts. You can’t argue your way out of grace. You’re in a court room against a Judge who wants you free. He’s already signed your release.

Grace teaches more than anything else ever could. You see His hands in it, you can hear Him speak through it. It’s His very nature that you see in grace. Don’t doubt the implications, explore them. Balance them against scripture. Keep a journal, let Him write with your hand. Explore Him in your music. He’ll teach you the words.

It’s time for you to learn something new. It’s time for life to begin.

s

ltyt

Are you out there? Are you searching for hope?

He heard you.


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