At the Altar

I decided to go to church very early tonight, because I wanted to work on a few things that I've been writing and I like my keyboard at church way better than the one I have at home. So, I locked myself in and I poured myself out.

Often when I write I pour all of my thoughts onto a page and then I begin to play some sort of chord progression and form some of the words that sound good together into what are my feeble attempts to write a song. I do it for me, so it really doesn't matter how feeble it is. Anyway, tonight was weird. There was a heaviness within me that I can't quite describe. I'm really not that sure where it came from, or why it was lingering, but as I stood there trying to think, I knew that I needed to spend some time in the arms of love.

I laid down on the floor, because some of my deepest revelations have come in the comfort of curling up at the feet of the almighty. Honestly, I didn't say anything to start with. I just laid there and begin to weep. I'm really not even sure what I was crying about, but as my time in that place went on I begin to visualize and pray for different people within my life and myself. 

I asked God questions tonight. I asked him if I'd be "alone" all of my life, or if he'd ever decide that the time was right. I asked why people that love so hard and sow so much good into this world have to hurt the way that they do. I asked why my grandmother seems to be worse mentally each time that I see her. I asked why a precious little girl that has barely tasted life is struggling thorough her best years with leukemia. There's more I'm sure. 

I think I fingered out where the heaviness came from. I internalize it. I guess in a way I feel like if I can hold these things within my heart long enough, they'll somehow be made better. Kinda conceited huh? 

I poured it out. I poured it out on the altar. And though it was in the form of many questions, I could feel God pouring an extra ounce of his love all over me. I could feel Him speaking to the secret places of my heart and saying, "My child, don't you worry, because I've always held you and I won't let go now." 

Did God answer my questions? No. But he did soothe my soul. You see, the questions that I'm asking him aren't ones that I can have the answers to, because if I had those answers there would be little room for trust, or faith. 

I don't have the answers, but I do have the peace.