time after time in my life i have struggled with my faith. things like "how could God allow something like that?" have no doubt crossed my mind. how could God take her husband... and following that, her son. how could God give them a love so great, but they can't take care of. how could God give me so much trauma and just keep adding to it?
the answer lays in the the story of Lazarus. jesus let him die in order to awaken others in the process of saving him. our circumstances tend to rip us apart, stab us in our most vulnerable of places, and indefinitely stain us. that stain can become this chronic sort of aching that feels like it'll never go away. but that aching creates a crack in our hearts that can allow a space for something else to grow. like dandelions in the imperfections of sidewalks.
i was different. i made you love the things you'd normally hate in other girls. we were each others firsts for a lot of things. you brought me healing. but soon enough i was "too much of a temptation"... i wasn't similar enough to you. i wasn't a good enough christian...
the devotionals i started doing because of you brought me this. they brought me this prompt, these thoughts. none of us are perfect and i too will admit i'm not a super great christian. but i loved you enough to try to love myself too. i didn't do these devotionals because you told me to, which you didn't. i don't owe you that explanation. i know why i do them. you won't see this because you won't care enough to look. you never did. i'm grateful for God every single day and i'm sorry for whatever i did that gave you the impression that i'm not. maybe it's because i'm not your cookie cutter christian. i'm one that feels God rather than learns God.
i knew you, but you didn't know me at all. you had this idea of who you thought i was and tried to tell me that it was true.
i used to say i found the proof of God in you, which i guess is true in more ways than one.
i find him evermore abundant in your absence. your lack of faith in me has strengthened my faith in her. God that is.
YOU ARE READING
things i wanted to say but never did
Não Ficçãoa journal. the title of each chapter is just the prompt. i don't actually know what to call this. pls don't expose who i am unless i say so.
