if i was honest with you this evening, id have confessions to make. if i was honest with you, id tell you how ive allowed anger, and hate, and distrust and pain to cloud my vision, drown out Gods voice, and disrupt my good judgement.

if i was honest with you this evening, id tell you that i was desperate. and in desperate need. id tell you that the words to the song breathe were echoed in my heart as much as they pour from my speakers.

if i was honest with you, id tell you that somehow, in the midst of the pain, the anger, the hate, the guilt… i lost who i wanted to become. i lost… me.

if i was honest with you tonight, id tell you that i needed change. that i needed fresh vision, that i needed to feel free. that i needed to be free. that i needed to find the me that i lost.

if i was honest with you tonight, id tell you that, i am lost. and that i dont really know where im going.

the more i live, the more i realize that the prayers we pray arent always the deepest things inside of us. im realizing that the cries from our hearts sometimes cannot be uttered in vocalized prayer… sometimes we simply hope that these become the things that God feels. we hope that this amazingly huge God we worship has the ability to look into our souls, see the needs that are there, and work accordingly.

i think at one point or another, we all find ourselves at this point. at the point of knowing that this decision, the decision to change, must be made. we either do what it takes to leave this anger behind, or we let past circumstances mold us, and eventually, control the rest of our lives.

maybe you’re one of the lucky ones, one of those who escaped from scarring during your early years. maybe you had a great family that supported you, friends who never left, and people in your life when you needed them… maybe you can look back, and not question.

thats not me.

i dont look back and not have questions. i dont look back and not wonder why i had to go through all this. i dont look back and, even while seeing the hand of God, not want to ask why. not want to demand an explanation…. not want to know what master plan i’m a part of.

and honestly, i dont think its the questions that haunt me. its not that im afraid of the answers, as much as i am, of asking the questions.
i was at walmart last week. typical evening, typical walmart trip…

i saw her as she was looking at broccoli. she was probably my age. mid-late 20s, easily 7 months pregnant… you could almost see the weariness in her eyes… but that wasnt what caught me.

her wrists, both were wrapped in gauze. you could see the red of dried blood under the bandages.

she had tried to commit suicide and she was out buying broccoli.

her arms… from the just above her elbow to beyond her tshirt sleeves, were covered in scars. thin, sequential, self inflicted….

i wanted to hug her. to tell her she was beautiful. i wanted to show her the beauty i saw… and how i ached to know she was hurting… i wanted to offer her hope. i wanted to offer her a better tomorrow.

instead i just stood there, lost… tears in my eyes… praying… not knowing what i could do to help. not knowing where i could point her… who would know how to handle something like this.

i wanted to tell her she wasnt alone. i wanted to tell her that this life was worth living, that she was beautiful and worthy of love…
now, maybe you can look back, and you dont have questions. maybe youre lucky enough to have your world view fit into your Christian box.

i cant. im not going to be that person. im never going to be that person.

because next time… next time i want to be able to tell her that ive felt as she has. that ive been through hell, and that life is worth it on the other side. i want to tell her that there is freedom, there is hope, there is amazing life on the other side of where she is… i want to tell her she isnt alone. i want to listen to her questions, and i want to offer answers.

whatever it takes, to get to that place, to be able to offer that help to those that are hurting, Lord…let it be done in me.