If I were to be completely honest with you, I would tell you my faith is broken. I would tell you I am so full of doubt that there is not much room left to believe. To believe God will do right by me. To believe He wants good for me. To believe His plans are to prosper me and not harm me. But I would only tell you if you wanted me to be completely honest and who wants that?
I’m still climbing my way through One Thousand Gifts as I try to start over. Ann Voskamp points out we are all born with our hands so tightly clinched. This week I pried my hands open and once I had peeled my fingers back, I was horrified at what was laying in my palm. I didn’t even know it was possible. Unforgiveness. Toward God. The only person who truly knows me, wants me, loves me. As sacrilegious as it sounds, I forgave Him. Those are the words I prayed: “I forgive You.” Unforgiveness is so much about me and so little about another.
I still hear the familiar cynicism murmur in my ear. It reminds me of all in my life, in the world that is broken. It reminds me of the holes and blocks my view of the whole. I call that voice liar. Every time it whispers, I call it liar. I’m waiting for the day it is silent.
Now I stand with hands open, no longer clenched, but very empty. I am beginning to hope they will one day hold belief and faith and healing again.
I offer these words as an act of worship.