Do you ever feel like you’re living someone else’s life? That you don’t belong where you are? That something just isn’t right?
Unsettled. Discontent. The urge to run.
What is that? Do you feel it too? Or is it just me?
So many questions. I know. I’m taking those thoughts to the One who I trust to answer. Even if the answer requires some serious reflection, serious changes. Changes inside of me.
While I write this, the music plays melancholy. Headphones drown out distraction. My headphones. Their headphones. Drowning out noises.
Noise. It used to be noisy.
In this house. This house that never welcomed me. This house not mine, no matter how hard I’ve tried. Tried to hide what I hate. Tried to like. Tried so hard to just be at peace here, in the darkness.
Shadows I can’t explain. Something always lurking.
It’s not working. It’s tearing me up inside. And it shows on the outside too.
We’re told to be content. Be content in all things. And I see all these people who are. Are content. Or so it seems. God says that we can have peace and joy and contentment, in spite of our circumstances. In. All. Things.
All things. Hardships. Tragedy. Illness. Strife.
Imprisonment. Real and perceived.
It’s not that bad, though. Hard yes, but tragedy, no. It’s not that bad that I should be discontent. I have all the things, the stuff. The comforts. The people. The life. More than many.
More than many.
But all I can see now is less than some. Less connectedness. Less purpose. Less potential.
Do you ever feel that? That you have less love? I know, shame on me.
All the photos of happy families, anniversaries and even death. I see more love in death sometimes, than in my life. I see all the photos, of kids and parents, of family. The vacations, time spent laughing and playing together. Together. As a family.
That’s it. That’s what is missing. Family. In the simple sense of the word.
I’m not discontent. But grieving. Grieving what will never be. Grieving what was. Longing for what should be.
God never meant for us to live this way. This brokenness. This apathy. It doesn’t glorify Him. It doesn’t draw people to His saving grace.
If we followed Him, if we did more than listen – we’d have more of that abundant life and less of this messed up version of living. We’d have more connectedness. We’d discover our purpose. We’d be more about people and less about stuff.
We’d be more content. Families would stay together. There would be more love.
So. I should get on with talking to the Lord about this “feeling” that keeps rearing its ugly head and following me around. I’m sure He’ll tell me that, in spite of my mistakes, in spite of others’ mistakes…our sins, really…there can be redemption. The broken, the apathy. The grieving. The discontent. The lack. The blindness. It can all be redeemed and traded in for something better. His better.
I want that. His way for me. Abundant living.
Do you want that too? Have you asked Him for it? Do you see His response in your life?