The moment it aches, you know it’s not right. Anger, frustration, it just hurts inside. Locked in to get away. Sometimes knowing where it comes from, the words she said, the thing he forgot to do. But sometimes unable to place it, any joy or hope seems too far away. And I wonder, maybe, have I lost it. If I can’t discern the silver lining. If I can’t find that peace. Maybe I don’t have the faith I thought I did.

Thats what it’s all about, right? Enduring until the end. Eyes fixed on the prize. Calling on the Lord, listening for His answer. Even when my heart is torn up, when my soul is weak, when my body fails. Crying out, “stop hurting me, be gracious to me,” to the only God who can make it end. Even when I’m so tired, eyes wasted and scratchy, with no tears left. Listening for the answer that’s supposed to save my life. Quiet and empty, because there’s nothing more to say.

A better me would crave the words of the Lord. A more zealous me would have purpose and direction for hearing the promises of God. A more faithful me would want to listen, repent, and believe. And worst of all, I’m not ignorant. I know, this is the game of the devil. Plug my ears, shut my eyes. But I am weary. The journey is too much. I really don’t have it in me anymore.

How long.

How long will I be angry at things I can’t control. How long will I be disappointed with the way it’s all turning out. How long will I be tossed about by the whims of others. How long will I want things I can’t have. How long will I be accused and condemned. How long will I blame someone else for my suffering. How long will I justify evil instead of work for good. How long will I remain the enemy of God.

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

It sounds like complaining. It sounds like something a shattered and broken heart would cry. Why have you forsaken me. What’s the point of calling out, enduring to the end. Tired and weary of listening for the answer that’s supposed to save my life. All I have. Is a pathetic exhale.

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

I’m not the only one who has dared to say it. The worst and the best of everything pinned up and pulsing on a tree. Fervor and faithlessness. Trickling out life into death. The One who healed the oblivious blind, His eyes fell dark. The One who opened undeserving ears, His hearing faded to deaf. And there was nothing left. No taste. No sight. No sound. No words. He ended the journey with an exhale. 

How long.

He must have thought. Hanging on that tree, but still believing that His Father would keep His promise to the end. How long would he feel the life draining out of his veins. How long would the weight of sin and sickness press into his shoulders, suffocating him. How long would the dark night gnash at his body and soul. As he became the enemy of God.

And a better, more zealous, and more faithful me wouldn’t understand. That this journey will be too much. And I’m not going to make it. I’m not faithful enough to see it all through. And still, my Lord cried this out loud even more deeply than I ever could. That it is all too hard. That I don’t know how to go forward. That I couldn’t give it all up. I am not strong enough to stand before the truth. Because I don’t have the trust that is demanded. It is why He had to breathe out His last. Because I won’t endure. Because I can’t keep open my ears and my eyes. Because I am the enemy of God. 

And so much more was He.