Waiting In a Dry Barren Place

God, if I didn’t already know you exist because of past experience, today I would doubt you. Where do you go; and why do you hide yourself so fully from my sight? I search my innermost heart and I cannot find you. Your presence is absent from the trees, the wind, the sunlight and the creatures, when I seek you there. My spirit is a desert wasteland and you do not nourish me, you do not quench my thirst, but rather, you allow my desire to nearly drive me mad. I pray the prayer you taught me, but you are not there. My thoughts press hard, trying to penetrate whatever boundary has been erected between us, but to no avail. I cannot pierce the veil, I cannot discern your Spirit. Was it I who erected this boundary? Did I hang this veil? It is a veil of tears, yet I do not shed them. For, even my eyes are a wasteland—dry and arid, and barren. Who can find you, if even the searchers are lost? What then, for those with little or no desire for you, who are content with your absence? With men it is impossible, but nothing is impossible for You. Leave me if you must, but not for long. I surrender to this emptiness, and fall upon the earth in hope. I pray that you will raise me up again before I turn to dust.


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