Well, my prayer has expired.
The girl has grown up.
The house sold to someone else.
The deadline passed.
Sometimes, the eyes of those older
than I convey knowledge
of mysteries I can’t fathom—
yet.
It seemed so good.
It seemed just right—perfect, actually.
It seemed like the answer.
How could it be anything else?
Once, I believed—
oh, please help my unbelief!
I don’t have the education,
the house, the dream
I thought I needed.
I only have you.
I want to believe,
please help my unbelief.
I am tempted to leave
but our history is long and lovely.
And you’ve never left me—
not even in the no.
Anyway, where would I go?
To Whom would I run?
Even in this place, your Word knows
me better than I know myself.
I need to believe,
help my unbelief.
Waiting-turned-no feels putrid.
Rancid.
Like chicken that could have been fried
but is now out of date. Old. Dead.
If I knew it all
—they tell me—
if I knew what you know,
this is what I would choose.
I am desperate to believe, help my unbelief.
Hold me, Jesus, because I just don’t have the strength
to hold onto you
in this no.
It makes me so mad
and it hurts too much.
Hold me and please
don’t
let
me
fall.
Hang
onto
me.
Hold
me
now…
Selah.
You’ve been holding me all along,
haven’t you.
I believe.