There was a time when the wind blew softly and I knew it was Him talking. My spirit was captured and rose up to dance into the sunset following loving after Jesus. I felt that I knew God, knew what it was like to be loved by the Creator and to walk in a breathtaking harmony with Him.

I was captured by this Yahweh, this intimate yet terrifying diety who walked among his people from the first moment he breathed life into man. To sit and be in creation was to sit in the presence of the Almighty and to know perfection. I had purpose because he gave me the ability to love.

I never understood His death. Of all the things I experienced with God, His death was one I could never wrap my head around. Its power seemed muffled in the noise of his majesty in my life. I knew God, living and breathing and walking in my world. But this man, this zealot living and breathing thousands of years ago...

To know God in today's world and to know the stories of yesterday's. They are equally as breathtaking, equally as terrifying. Yet, the rift remains and my heart continues to move farther into its self imposed exile.

And now, my body turns against me and my heart wraps itself more tightly in these dirty, wreaking bandages. With the hope for purpose I found the depths of self pity. With the desire for freedom I ran deeper into my cell. There is no more enjoying creation, I am too tired. No more wreckless abandon to joy, I am too afraid. No more worship as I cannot let go of those things that weight me to this earth with the force of gravity itself.

I am truly that little girl. Running, crying, screaming, through the dark. Alone. I had always hoped it would slow down and I would crawl into His lap again; Abba.
I just don't think that I can. Maybe I never will.

To live in a world of falsity, where everything I ever knew has become nothing but a charade. To love is a smile and an empty "How are you?" We run from pain so much so that to see it deep in another's eyes is more than we could ever bear. We have our own to deal with afterall. And the desire to help is nothing but an empty sentiment. No one is there.

Are we not His people still? Are we not called to live lives of love? Why then is it so burdensome? Why, if the only thing that will change this world is some time to sit and listen, to pray, to worship, do we have so little of it.

We wear weariness like a hidden scar and business and positivity as if it were our last hope at life.

Is it wrong for a Christian to hurt? Unfortunately it seems the answer is yes if they want to have friends in the church.

Where is God in all of this?

You are here. Help me to see you clearly once again. Rip open these bandages once again. Let me experience the freeing power that your death was for this universe.