Prayer for the broken

It hurts. God, do you have any idea how much this hurts? I know that Christianity teaches that Jesus took on all our sin, pains, and sorrows when He died on the cross. I’ve been told that You’ve experienced it all—felt love and joy, grief and sorrow. There is nothing I can feel that You ...

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It hurts. God, do you have any idea how much this hurts?

I know that Christianity teaches that Jesus took on all our sin, pains, and sorrows when He died on the cross. I’ve been told that You’ve experienced it all—felt love and joy, grief and sorrow. There is nothing I can feel that You do not understand. Nothing I can say that You do not already know.

But is this really true, Lord? This feels too big. And at the same time, too specific. Surely You didn’t feel this kind of pain. Our cultures and societies have changed. You were without sin. I have way too much of it. Can you really understand?

The right answer, I know, is yes: You know, You feel, You care, You understand, You will never leave me, and You are the source of all hope. I can only find my strength in You. I can only discover answers in You.

But what happens when I know this in my head but don’t feel it in my heart?

What happens when I feel doubt? I want You to be everything You are supposed to be. But I’m afraid that You are not enough. Or that I’m the exception—maybe I’m too far gone. Maybe I’ve made too many wrong decisions. Maybe I haven’t prayed enough, believed enough, tried enough. Maybe You don’t love me enough.

But then I hear You whisper, shushing my objections.

Or is that just wishful thinking?

Lord, I want You to prove me wrong. I want You to push away my doubts and replace my fear with faith. I want it to be an instantaneous, miraculous transformation. But I’m so afraid You won’t come through for me.

And I wonder where that will leave me. What it will say about my faith.

But I guess those things don’t really matter. What matters is that You don’t let go. That You hear my desperate pleas. And that You let me see You.

Oh, Lord, please fix this. Give me hope. Give me something—even the slightest little glimpse, the tiniest little proof that You hear me.

Because, somehow, as afraid as I am to lay myself open wide, to fully trust in You, I do believe. And I pray that this tiny mustard seed of faith will truly be enough to grow into something magnificent.

If You are all that I hope You are, it will happen. And I’m willing to take a chance, because I want to believe. Because I need You, so much more than I want to admit.

So I give You my pain, my fears—and my desperate, fervent, tremulous hope. And I wish, and pray, and wonder, and wait to see what You will do.

Amen.

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