Dear Lord,
Where are you right now? Have you forgotten me? Can’t you see my pain? I say the words “God is good,” but I don’t understand what that means. You teach me how weak my words are and how they skip along the surface. I assume you will lead me away from agony, not into it, and resent you for not giving me what I want. I want to stand on your promises, but I can’t remember what those promises are right now. My world is upside down, and you feel like you are a thousand miles away.
Why would you take my wife? Why? Is there a good reason or did she somehow slip through your fingers when you weren’t paying attention? I wake up with tears and stumble through the day, lost and confused. My fierce love for her can’t bring her back. Are you really good, Lord? Is this good?
You taught me that death is not the end. You taught me your precious blood changes everything, how you breathe life into chaos. You have blessed me with family and friends who remind me how good you are. But I feel so alone right now. Is my heart deceived?
Help my unbelief, Lord. I want to glorify you but right now, I can’t give any more. I’m spent. I can’t fix this. My life is broken glass on the ground, a thousand sharp shards pointing in different directions. Instead of taking my pain away, you let me see how shattered I am. Perhaps that is the point. I feel like a cell phone searching for a signal in the woods, wearing me out. Perhaps I should stop trying to make sense of this pain and rest at your feet. I can’t do this Jesus.
Thirty-two years of marriage seems like a memory of someone else’s life. The pictures I have seem like events so very far away.
But your Word tells me, “There will be a day” when life works again. I will wrap my arms around you, Jesus, smell your hair, and feel your breath on my shoulder, and you will breathe life into me. Your voice will push back the darkness, and I will be whole. There will be a day when death will lose, and you will win.
But today, it feels like death has won, and I feel so very weak and alone.
I know you are good. I know this. Somehow, Deb’s death brings you honor. You are my redeemer, present tense. You are redeeming. That is what you do. You restore broken glass and bring Shalom.
You are worthy, Lord. You are so very worthy of my pain. Help me see tomorrow and know your goodness is bigger than the darkness. Teach me to hope. Breathe life into me, Lord; I need you right now.
Give strength to my words, teach me to rest in your love, and help me to teach others how good you are.