Tuesday, June 11, 2013


You are here. In my head I'm certain. But in my heart, I don't feel it, and I'm lonely for You. The stillness isn't cold nor angry, but it is profoundly silent.

It's like something has come down between You and I. Part of my heart aches to overcome it, another part weighs me down into a different kind of stillness-- stuck, like in mud, or maybe quicksand, sinking. My heart grows heavier and heavier.

I want to speak to You, but I cannot find the words. I want to hear You but You are silent, not even a still small voice, nary a whisper. I wait, but silence remains, and I'm not completely sure how I feel about that. Maybe silence would be better if not for the loneliness.
All things... that's what Your word says, so even the stillness and the silence must be good, or purposeful at least. I know You are good. I know Your plans are good.

You said, "Be still, and know." 

I'm not good at that. Always striving, always thinking, never still.

Is that why? Are you bringing me to stillness by consuming me with Your stillness and silence? Like a great ocean of nothingness, sinking, everything seems to drift farther and father away. There's nothing to grab hold of, not even You.

How far will I drift? How far will I sink until I finally find it? The stillness You've commanded.

When I finally get there, will You rescue me then?

I cannot know if or when or how...

All that I know, is...