I sat in my quiet time this morning, but the words wouldn’t come.
Have you ever been there?
You want to pray but you don’t know what to say. You have listened as people shared their stories and the things they are going through, and you can’t fix it. You have watched as our world gets a little more unkind every day, and you wonder why we aren’t doing more about that.
You see prejudice flaunted and it makes you want to weep. You see the refugee child separated from her mama, and you wonder why we aren’t telling the world how wrong that is.
So you go to God and you know that your voice is one of millions bending his ear. Yet deep inside you trust that he’s listening to each of us, and he’s near. But you still don’t know what to say.
It’s just too big. Too hard to know what to ask.
When that happens, maybe like me, the temptation is to not speak at all to this God who loves us so very much. Yet when we do that, our bottled up words swirl in our thoughts, show up in our dreams, and try to rob us of joy.