The Empty Sling

My dear Father, the One that I long to touch and hold, the One that has brought me through death to life…my God…I love you.  I’ve not written in so long.  I feel nothing but dread at the thought of sitting down to face the mess in my head, the accusations of being a hypocrite with a lot of empty words that never made it off a 2D page.  Something at the core of me just died right along with Brandt -- motivation, hope, courage, belief really, that "God living in me" was ever going to matter on a real battlefield.

My heart is ripping right now as the awful, awful comes streaming down my face.  I don’t want to feel this Lord!  I don’t want to cry or deal with the stuff that’s suffocated any desire to write about You.  The other night I was crying out to touch you, to know your will for me, to hear your voice and sense a firm direction.  I asked you when you were going to quit being silent to me and I heard, “When are you going to start writing to me?”

I just keep thinking, 'I can’t, God.' I have nothing to say, no hope to offer anyone since Brandt’s death.  Aaron and Brandt were family, precious little boys that I shared my faith with at different points over 30 years.  But somehow I think, God,  that they needed so much more than words.  They needed rescuing by You.  They needed me in the trenches with them bringing a physical manifestation of You, not words spoken,  or worse, printed out on a pretty blog, available only if you’ve got a computer and a handy dandy Facebook account.  I tried to tell them about you, many times, I did!   Andrew and Tommy tried to tell them there was a better way, a way that would lead them to peace, hope, and true love.  Looking back I feel like those attempts were minuscule compared to the wars that raged in their lives.  Where was their David with a stone that could show the power of the Living God?  Where were you God?  Where in the hell was I?

If you and I can’t make a difference in my own family’s lives, then I feel like a farce.  I sit in my safe home in my suburban neighborhood with a husband that provides for our three Christian children and me.  I’m surrounded with love and encouragement from your Body…from You.  Yes, it’s easy to write about hope, love, and grace.  But all the words I’ve written or said over the years didn’t touch them!  It didn’t bring You any closer to flattening their Goliath.  My words don’t fit into David’s sling, God.  They just don't…words from a distance, without action…they’re empty.

Kim suggested maybe I had an offense against you.  I don’t really feel like self-analysis right now, but it made me tear up…like she hit a raw nerve. Maybe that’s why I’ve not been able to put anything on paper.  I don’t know, but I’ve prayed about it, even had Charity pray for me Sunday ‘cause I thought that’s what you wanted.  I still don’t feel inspired though.  I’m only writing ‘cause you and Kim told me to.