What’s the use of writing if no one will hear with a heart the same as yours when you wrote it? I know God is in control and that He is sovereign over my words, but there are so many days I have to sit back and realize that we are all in such different places. The words that everyone loves can say something different to everyone. The sentence I type can make no impact on some and can reach others heart’s at the core. And I can’t predict that. I can’t change that. I can do nothing but write.
I wish that my thoughts made sense. I wish my heart was quiet. I wish I could help. I wish I knew what to do. It’s not wrong to realize my own inability. God is in charge….
Thank you, Father, for the way that you continually remind me that I need you… I wish I could hug you. I wish I could bow at your throne and cry in your arms. I wish I knew what it felt like to be in your presence. I wish I knew how to love you perfectly. I wish I never failed you. I wish I could love you as perfectly as you love me. I am so grateful for the way that you love me. It is a love I can never repay. Thank you for loving me when I’m crying for myself. Thank you for loving me when I’m weak. Thank you for loving me when I did not know you. Thank you for using my shortcomings for your glory and my good. Thank you for redeeming this life and making it better than it could ever be without you.
I don’t even know why my heart is so down. I’m heavy with the weight of this world. With my own struggles and with others. I wish I knew how to make everyone happy and to love everyone. And yet I wonder how it is that some people are loved at all. I wonder how it is that some people are as dark as they are. I wonder how it is that one heart can hold so much darkness and so many secrets. That one life can be so consumed by blindness. That one can be so blind. And how can I see beauty even in this? How can this attract my artist’s heart? How can I wonder at the interaction of light and darkness and see beauty in the pain of the contrast?
How can my heart be so overwhelmed? How much more would it be if I knew all? God is surely greater than any of us just in the fact that He sees all and does not break down beyond repair. I see glimpses of the darkness and am immobilized.
And who is to say what is normal or good? How are we to say what is normal in interaction? How are we not to reach out? How are we not to ask what others think? And why shouldn’t we be afraid to do so? Why should we beat around the bush and ask indirect questions? It’s not easy to admit one doesn’t know. We see the world from our eyes. We only ever view our surroundings from our heart. We cannot know the thoughts of others and we cannot say that we all see things the same way. We are each alone with ourselves at the end of the day. Each aware of our own insecurities, believing others don’t struggle as we do. People are so different and yet so very alike at the core. We are no mind readers. God may know the answers, but surely we cannot know the workings of someone else’s heart unless they are made known to us. Honesty is surely one of the most beautiful gifts God as given.
I can’t even be mad at my heart for being such a whirlwind. I’d rather the feelings and thoughts came in storms than not at all. I’d rather they spill out in a jumbled mess of depth and pondering than that they did not burden me at all. Ignorance is surely not the kind of bliss worth having. There are two kinds of bliss, I think. Empty bliss and reality’s bliss. Empty bliss tries and tries to be the real thing and everyone wants it because they don’t want to give to have reality’s bliss. Reality’s bliss is the result of hard work, knowing heartbreak, knowing patience, knowing selflessness. It’s the result of right choices made and hard decisions put into action. It’s the bliss that endures because it is the result of a love that has endured.
Why is there so much beauty in pain? Is it because pain is reality? Is it because we are human and there’s no beauty in falseness? Are tears beautiful because they break down barriers? Are they beautiful because the evoke feeling? How can something God did not create as part of His perfect world hold beauty? Perhaps because this broken world was planned from the beginning. Perhaps because God put it in our heart to see beauty in brokenness. One can only handle so much “Be happy!” junk in a day. One cannot just choose to be happy when the world is swirling down. In a moment you can, but it cannot last. Your strength cannot endure. Your heart cannot last. There is not a person in the world that can handle the entirety of the world. Here we are, each with our own stories overlapping each others, but in reality we see a small portion of all that is in the world. And still we are overcome so often.
Anyone who thinks knows pain. Anyone who lives knows tears. The deeper you think, the more you realize, the more you care, the more it hurts. Maybe that’s why pain is beautiful.