Another Return

I always go MIA for long periods of time, then come back suddenly.  I guess you’re all used to that by now.  I guess a lot has happened, and I really do need to “restaple” my heart to Christ.  It’s been a hard year, but I’m ready to stop living in fear that I’m somehow beyond God’s reach.  Depression, eating disorder, anxiety, Dad leaving me—my God is greater than the sum of my fears.  Just a stream of consciousness prayer I wrote to God today:

 

Lord,

I ask You constantly for things I can’t even comprehend, so I’m going to humble my prayers to layman’s terms.  I’m looking for Your peace, Lord, first and foremost.  I pray that You will help me to quiet the intrusive, fear-stricken voices in my head so that I may listen to You instead and come to hear the quiet words You whisper into my heart.  I trust that You’ll bring me back to Your arms, Jesus, and I promise You that I will, by the help of Your grace, let Your gentle, loving voice lead me back home.  I’m a little lost right now, Jesus, but I will not give up.  I love You more than I can understand, and, if nothing else, I will always stretch my arms toward You as You pull me back to shore.  Again, I’ll say it, Jesus: I love You.  I’ll give You my nothing if it’s all I have.

Amen.

 

Out of context, I’m sure this prayer is pretty incoherent, but in light of my faith life as of late, I feel like it says all that I’ve been wanting to say to God.

How to Tuesday & TOTB Reflections

I don’t know how to Tuesday.  I’m tired.  I left my phone at school.  Tuesdays, man.  No. I don’t know that I have anything important or inspiring to say today, but I thought I should post anyway.  I’ve been journaling … Continue reading

Burdens

hands of christDear Jesus,

I feel ambivalent about everything these days.  Just unsure of myself, I guess.  These last few weeks at Mass, I’ve just had this burden on my chest, this overwhelming feeling of unworthiness.  It physically hurts.  I don’t feel like I’m good enough for Your love, Jesus.  I feel like I’m just letting you down, like my sins are going to eat away at my faith little by little.  It’s terrifying, Lord.  I need Your love so much it hurts.

I don’t know what You have waiting for me.  I know I’m not supposed to worry about tomorrow, but it’s hard not to worry when everyone around me is moving in such a blur, getting ready for their futures, making plans, writing application essays, seemingly so ready for real life.  I don’t know whether I’m ready for what’s to come, Jesus, nor do I know what’s coming.  I hope I’m making the right choices, heading in the direction You’re pointing me.  Life’s overwhelming me right now, and I need to cling to You.

Lord, what am I supposed to do about the guy?  He’s sweet, he’s smart, he’s funny, he’s cute, he likes me.  I worry that I’m blinded by all the good and failing to see the bad.  Is he pulling me from my faith?  The conversations we’ve had, the photos I’ve sent (nothing risque, but not quite modest either).  He knows about my faith, he knows about my chastity.  He supports it.  He’s Jewish, but not too serious about his religion.  He’s older than me and he lives far away.  He always makes me smile, and I love our Skype calls and his bad puns and pet names.  I’m just so confused right now, and I don’t know what I’m doing.  I really like him, but I firmly believe that “a man hears what he wants to hear and disregards the rest.”  I don’t want to do that, Jesus.  I want to listen to Your voice in every area of my life.  I can’t give You my full heart while looking for Your loopholes.  That’s not who I am, and that’s not who You created me to be.

Jesus, You know that all this is just the beginning of my worries right now, just the tip of the iceberg.  I’m just begging for Your help at this point because I fear I’ve lost all direction.  Make me humble, Lord, but at the same time, help me to see the good and beautiful in me so I don’t have to rely on boys for validation of my own worth.  Please stay with me and help me to listen to Your voice among the crowd.  I trust You to lead me home.

Amen.

“That we may be made worthy of the promises of Christ.”

Cardboard Testimonies

We do this at my parish’s Confirmation retreat, and it’s one of the most powerful experiences I’ve ever known. I did it last year as a peer, and it was so overwhelmingly beautiful.

The front of my piece of cardboard said:

“I hated myself. Felt worthless and didn’t want to live.”

When I flipped it over, it read:

“He told me I was worth dying for.”