I first shared this on Facebook yesterday. Didn’t get a ton of reaction but those who cared seemed to care a lot. So I’m posting it here too. In case anyone else cares. Presently untitled. And it’s the closest thing I can come up with to describe things at the moment.
No one can ever be sure.
It seems doubt is all we were made for.
But if doubt hits a drought
there’s no need to shout.
If we’re out, I can always make more.
I’ve doubts in amounts no one can ignore.
But You’ve heard this all before.
I’m tired of losing.
I’m tired of loss,
and all that You’ve taken from me.
You want my prayers?
I want fucking answers.
I want something I can believe.
I’ve tried to hold up my end,
but it feels like I’ve been dragging Yours.
It’s not that I don’t believe in You,
it’s that I can’t carry much more.
The thing about doubt
is you first must have faith.
That’s the only way it works.
I’ve got faith enough to call Your bluff.
Why must everything hurt?
(Live long enough and everything hurts.)
If You test my faith,
expect spit in Your face.
Not every test benefits You.
You want my worship?
I want my life back.
What are You trying to prove?
There are those who say
that the only true way
is to turn to You in prayer.
But I’ve folded my hands ’til they’ve bled
and every word that I’ve said
seemed to vanish into thin air.
They say there’s nothing I can’t say to You
because You always understand.
But who do I turn to when God’s not enough
and I need human hands?
When I reach out, where are YOUR hands?
I know it won’t ever be easy.
You didn’t promise to use a light touch.
The only promise You made
comes after the grave.
And after this, You OWE me that much.
But when I face my end,
can I call You my friend
and trust that You will do the same?
I don’t want to die still wondering
if You ever knew my name.