I want the beautiful unknown and the Great Perhaps. I want to know that everything will be okay or not okay. I don’t care for lies today. I want the cold hard truth. I want the awkwardness, the budding fear of walking into a dark room. I want to be told that I will be okay, but sometimes not okay—and in the end, this makes it all okay. Because what are we but dust made from the earth, living for a purpose that is either misdirected or profound?
I want the crushing feeling of a thousand burdens because I know I will not have to bear it alone. I want the pain from being lost then the joy of being found. I want the rock bottom because then I will relearn where my foundation is. I want to know where my weaknesses are; I wonder if they will be where my strengths lie.
I want the extremes. I want the epiphany that makes sense for only a brief passing second that ebbs into confusion. I want the lightning, the uncomfortable feeling of wet clothes sticking to my skin, the desperate longing for an umbrella and not knowing if the longing is futile or worthwhile. I want the journey, the great commission, and having a faith so strong that it could move mountains.
Oh I want the stuggles. And I don’t want the comfortness of words that I write. I want the written word. I don’t want to find the familiarity of my own. I want the tears and the anger and the realization that I am nothing nothing nothing but something in they eyes of the one who holds truth.
And after all this, I want rest. I want my jubilee, I want my peace. I want to remember that I am human in the hands of mercy and grace.