I wanted to change things up and start by sharing words I’ve put together, thoughts and brokenness I’ve been wrestling with lately. Warning they aren’t the pretty and Jesus centered ones you’ve probably expected from my past posts. I didn’t write them with the intentions of sharing them with anyone but more so to give my thoughts a place to breathe. That being said they are a bit uncomfortable but if you keep reading it gets better.

“I fear the thoughts.

I fear the feelings.

I fear the fear.

Oh look I’m doing it again, not claiming them as my own.

How seems to be my most prevalent question

Running swiftly through my brain.

It’s funny if you say how out loud repeatedly it starts to sound like ow.

It’s quite fitting, because that’s the only way I know to describe my life right now, ow.

An emotionless ow,

At least I try to shut off all those overwhelming emotions.

There’s far too many to choose from,

I don’t even really know what they are

and I wouldn’t dare feel them out as they constantly beg me to do.

I can’t go a casual “how are you” from someone I know without breaking down into tears,

Begging them please not to ask either verbally or in my mind.

I guess that brings us back to how?

Because I can’t even think down the path of why…

that’s for another day, another battle, something more than just survival.

So how?

How do I deal with the wounds that have made their way inside my house and called it their home.

I haven’t even reached that place where my house is my home, where my body is my home, where my church is my home.

No, the only home I’ve ever allowed myself to know is kind you make out of temporary people and temporary feelings.

Yet my wounds have made a home of this body,

and if I don’t figure out how to stop them soon they’ll make their forever home right where they’ve always wanted

My soul.


How do I allow these wounds to heal even if it means scarring,

even if it means feeling my pain?

How do I dive into the endless sea of confusion and loss when I risk not making it out alive?

I’ve always been known to wear the coat of vulnerability, but it was just a coat.

there’s nothing truly vulnerable about wearing a coat in the storm.

No, that is just what comes natural to my instincts.

But the true vulnerability I need is to stand there naked in the rain.

Exposed for all I am,

Allowing the storm to wash me, crush me, or sweep me away.

Naked but not hiding under any coats or clothes, no facade,

Just me.

How do I stand naked in these storms?

Those are the questions I wish I were asking myself,

But the only one I am asking is how do I survive…

I just want to make it out alive.

How do I move on?

How do I let go?

How ?”

In a season where it feels as though I’m stripped of everything that was once so comfortable to me, where it feels as though the only things I have is my relationship with Papa and my words. Both endless if you choose to dive in and yet feeling extremely empty if you keep them at bay.

I don’t want to say these are things I’ve learned, because I’ve said that before. That’s the thing I’m so prone to talk about what I’ve learned what God has taught me. Never what I’m learning or he’s teaching me for that might give you a glimpse into just how broken I am, you’re allowed to know that I was broken but not that I still am. I work at a church, I’m a leader, I’ve already been saved I’m not supposed to be broken anymore. Others your brokenness is welcome here but mine? No, and if you just don’t acknowledge it, smile more, just keep encouraging others it’ll just disappear.

I’m not quite sure when my pride became so big, when I reached that point in thinking I was the only one who had to have their life together, essentially to be just close enough to perfect. I know you’re broken but I cant be. No wonder I’ve felt so alone, when my pride has been too swollen to let anyone or any light in to heal this ever present brokenness. When my back has been breaking from the load I’ve been pretending wasn’t on my shoulders.

It still amazes me how constant Papa is despite my brokenness, my pride, my avoidance. He’s been whispering one word to me for quite some time now. Off and on Ive listened to him repeat this word to me and frankly there were many times where deep down I knew what he was asking of me but I was too scared. But I’ve wrestled with why he’s seemed distant, well maybe I always knew but since I chose to walk in my brokenness alone I had given myself the ability to twist the situation, twist his words so they were less convicting, less specific, just less. Sometimes my efforts to avoid my brokenness just create greater areas of brokenness. The whole time my Papa has been whispering the word RELEASE to me and yet I still grapple with every line of that poem, every question of “how” when this whole time He continues to tell me release.

Some of you probably get that, the connection, because you aren’t in my shoes, not because my shoes are special but because you have perspective. Others of you are closer to where I am, out here saying “He said one very vague word how is that supposed to explain how to heal and deal with painful, REAL, and complicated things in life. (And that’s after I actually connected the his word to my questions.) That’s the thing He never said he was going to give me an entire map to my life, in fact if he did I wouldn’t need him anymore, just follow the map and I’m set.

I don’t want this to sound like some trite Sunday school sermon, because I realize we are all going to go through the throws and waves of life that at some points can feel as though we are drowning in. But I’m reminded in all of this of the Israelites. God every day would give them bread from the sky, but it was just enough for the day. They weren’t to go out and store up for another day, but to rely upon their father EVERY day to supply their need. He’s calling me one word at a time to rely on him, in faith, in obedience, in courage, to follow him ONE word at a time. When I take that step He will show me the next, but why would he show me more, tell me more when I have yet to be faithful with his one word to me, as it been piercing my soul and stripping me of all my excuses.

I’m broken. But I want to see the light get in. Most days I feel incapable of walking out obedience in the way I know he’s asking of me. Most days I fall apart and feel alone and afraid. Lately feeling like I’ve hit rock bottom, then my pride jumps right in that pit with me and starts digging. Like I said earlier I’m in a season where it seems all I have is my relationship with Papa and my words. Despite the uncomfortableness I’m ready to dive into their endlessness, to leave behind my pride and to keep taking steps towards obedience and vulnerability even when I feel incapable.

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