Empty
In 2014, my difficulties graduated to devastation. My light affliction had a growth spurt, my pain morphed into paralysis, and what I thought was treasure turned out to be a trick. Meanwhile, life kept moving even though God stopped speaking. As weeks turned into months and monthsturned into misery, I found myself wading in the waters of doubt with more questions than answers: Where is God? Did I miss Him or did I mistake Him? When did my joy go into remission, and how come no one told me I was depressed? How do I know “this” is right when “that” was so wrong? How did I get here? Why am I here? I tried to make sense out of the nonsense, but my confidence had been crippled by a faith that I lost faith in. Everything I saw in life was antithetical to everything I said in prayer. In a word, I was empty.
Still preaching…but empty.
Still working..…on empty.
Still living……..and empty.
Empty was written from a heart shipwrecked by life experiences. Empty is for the adventurously indifferent; for people who sail on boats with no engine; for people who survive with little support or security. From where you stand, there’s no shore in sight and no direction in view. But somehow, you’re still floating, still living, and still trying to make it on broken pieces. You catch your breath—a moment of relief comes—but then, without warning, another tidal wave flips you upside down, and you find yourself, once again…empty.
In 2014, my difficulties graduated to devastation. My light affliction had a growth spurt, my pain morphed into paralysis, and what I thought was treasure turned out to be a trick. Meanwhile, life kept moving even though God stopped speaking. As weeks turned into months and monthsturned into misery, I found myself wading in the waters of doubt with more questions than answers: Where is God? Did I miss Him or did I mistake Him? When did my joy go into remission, and how come no one told me I was depressed? How do I know “this” is right when “that” was so wrong? How did I get here? Why am I here? I tried to make sense out of the nonsense, but my confidence had been crippled by a faith that I lost faith in. Everything I saw in life was antithetical to everything I said in prayer. In a word, I was empty.
Still preaching…but empty.
Still working..…on empty.
Still living……..and empty.
Empty was written from a heart shipwrecked by life experiences. Empty is for the adventurously indifferent; for people who sail on boats with no engine; for people who survive with little support or security. From where you stand, there’s no shore in sight and no direction in view. But somehow, you’re still floating, still living, and still trying to make it on broken pieces. You catch your breath—a moment of relief comes—but then, without warning, another tidal wave flips you upside down, and you find yourself, once again…empty.
In 2014, my difficulties graduated to devastation. My light affliction had a growth spurt, my pain morphed into paralysis, and what I thought was treasure turned out to be a trick. Meanwhile, life kept moving even though God stopped speaking. As weeks turned into months and monthsturned into misery, I found myself wading in the waters of doubt with more questions than answers: Where is God? Did I miss Him or did I mistake Him? When did my joy go into remission, and how come no one told me I was depressed? How do I know “this” is right when “that” was so wrong? How did I get here? Why am I here? I tried to make sense out of the nonsense, but my confidence had been crippled by a faith that I lost faith in. Everything I saw in life was antithetical to everything I said in prayer. In a word, I was empty.
Still preaching…but empty.
Still working..…on empty.
Still living……..and empty.
Empty was written from a heart shipwrecked by life experiences. Empty is for the adventurously indifferent; for people who sail on boats with no engine; for people who survive with little support or security. From where you stand, there’s no shore in sight and no direction in view. But somehow, you’re still floating, still living, and still trying to make it on broken pieces. You catch your breath—a moment of relief comes—but then, without warning, another tidal wave flips you upside down, and you find yourself, once again…empty.