Why? O God, Why?

To always end at the same place, to always land on you face, to turn endlessly in circles, to wear out the knees of your jeans, to always beg for the same thing: why? Why sin, Lord? There must be a purpose in it, because you have a purpose in everything. Why do your purposes take so long? Will I eventually come through this, or will I rot away? I relish the thought of eating a bowl of chili for supper--more than I long to eat your word tonight. Will it always be like this?

Does Romans 8:28 still work in my life? Are you working my disobedience for my eventual good? But the Lord does not tempt to sin, but we deceive ourselves. "For the Lord disciplines the one he loves, and chastises every son whom he receives." Lord, help me to love your discipline. Through struggle and trail and failure will you show me that you are for me? "If God is for us, who can be against us?" Lord, it seems like everything is against me. It seems sometimes that I am against me. What can be done about that?


Questions, but questions too small to kill faith--that precious gift of God. "Be wretched and mourn and weep. Let your laughter be turned to mourning and your joy to gloom" you tell me. Then you say: "Rejoice always... give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you." What does this look like Lord?

I feel I can offer no profound words of hope tonight. Yet let us turn from the night, for it will not last. I let someone write for me. The following is a poem by George Herbert that has encouraged me.

Love (2)

Immortal Heat, O let thy greater flame
Attract the lesser to it: let those fires,
Which shall consume the world, first make it tame;
And kindle in our hearts such true desires,
As may consume our lusts, and make thee way.
Then shall our hearts pant thee: then shall our brain
All her invention on thine Alter lay,
And there in hymns send back thy fire again:
Our eyes shall see thee, which before saw dust;
Dust blown by wit, till that they both were blind:
Thou shalt recover all thy goods in kind,
Who wert disseised by usurping lust:
All knees shall bow to thee; all wits shall rise,
And praise him who did make and mend our eyes.