I couldn’t miss anyone more than I miss you.
Like a gnawing in my gut, like an ache I can’t relieve. You are so much more than a well-constructed childhood, a lifetime kept inside the lines, a string of choices. This missing, this ache, this unrelenting awareness of you never subsides.
It’s so easy to live transparent. And it’s so hard to live transparent.
You are my safest place. Yet I learn in this long, painful way how I cannot be soft with you and hard with people. I cannot keep my heart close to you and far from people.
But I could not continue on so willingly open-hearted.
Slowly I constructed these walls. Brick by brick. And yet when I intended only an obligatory visit with you, had worked up my stiff resistance, I continually found myself sinking into your presence.
Unable to hold myself away from you.
Your love is no soft invitation. It is an assault on every lie I ever believed.
I was so angry at pretense and pretending people and really, I was so very angry with you. I think I felt you tricked me.
I let you deconstruct my life and rebuild me and then I could no longer find you.
Deep inside I believed you abandoned me.
I could not find you anymore.
Seemed gone to me and I had never been more heartbroken.
I won’t pretend otherwise. I have nothing to prove. I just need you. This missing ache, the gnawing need. It never leaves me.
Ah, Jesus how you ruined me.
Jagged hearts are sharp. Your children slice and wound and bleed on one another.
We spin in our attempts to medicate the ache. More trying, more projecting, more holding it together.
But can I just fall apart at your feet now?
Can I give up this self-preservation? Can I let my calloused heart and tired hands rest? Can I just stop now and collapse at the foot of the cross? Let your redeeming blood saturate my life as the healing oil it was always meant to be?
Can I live shattered again?
What choice really is there? It’s been too long and I can’t go on the rest of my life fighting this vulnerability you demand.
Jesus you are more than kind, more than merciful, more than gracious, more than all the words in a lifetime could express. You keep raining on dry, dusty hearts. You keep enticing our empty souls with splashes of the sweetest love, desiring to fill us, to baptize our lives in grace and mercy and freedom. You keep whispering wholeness and healing and restoration against our loss. You keep singing comeback songs, writing comeback stories, drawing comeback blueprints for our lives.
You don’t give us up.
So let pain come. Let failures accumulate. Let disappointments and disillusionment gather. Let all my striving amount to nothing.
Because still, you. There is no one like you.
And yet all this time I know you never asked me to produce a thing. Never asked me to prove a thing.
You say, come.
And I come.
Over and over and over for all my life.