I am struggling, God. I feel like I’m drowning. Nothing brings me any solace. My heart is so heavy with sorrow. I read the Psalms and I still feel empty. My moaning is hollow. The truth that I know isn’t bringing any comfort. I know you are there and yet I am in such pain. The world taunts me. It laughs. It mocks. It takes its shots against me. And I find myself just submitting to it. I know that’s not what I’m supposed to do. I know that doesn’t help me. It just leads to more sadness. A real struggle. A vicious circle of torment whips around my thoughts, my heart, my mind.
I’ve hidden your word in my heart, God. It’s not helping.
I’m pouring over your word: meditating on it day and night. It’s not helping.
I call out to you and you answer. It’s not helping.
I blare worship music. I sing. I ponder. It’s not helping.
Where am I falling short?
But the struggle is real, God. It hurts. And to think that I don’t even really know what real struggle is. I don’t know real persecution. I don’t know real suffering. And yet here I am pouring out my tears and anguish to you. I guess my hope in you to hear me is enough. Collecting tears in a bottle. Writing volumes and volumes of my struggles turning into faith.
I know this is all the enemy attacking me and trying to steal my joy. But I’m so tired of fighting. I’m so bloody tired. Can you give me some new mercy? Can you give me more faith. Can you give me something?
“Because of the Lord’s great love for us, we will not be consumed, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.”