The Letter
June 30, 2009
Dear God,
Can you still hear me? Can you still stand to look at me? Will your eyes meet mine, when I am here, laying on the filth that’s bringing me lower--- lower and farther away from you? I have no praise in my lips. No song to pour out. All that’s left is the bitter alcohol and smoke from my mouth, and even those are fading away by the minute. I have nothing to bring and nothing to offer. All I have now is my heart and I just want to let you see how hurt and miserable I am.
So many times you had instructed me and so many time you corrected by wrongs. Often you’d remove things that I held on to with all of my heart and all that you’d tell me is that you have a plan, that it’s what’s best for me, and that it will bring glory to your name--- I said goodbye to my name, said goodbye to plans, said goodbye even to my sanity. And as I had sang over and over again, “Though you slay me, yet will I hope in you” indeed you give and take away and all I ask is that even through the hurts that you would give me enough strength to still worship you. For I believed, even in the deepest of my being, that someday you’ll bring healing and you’ll show me a brighter day--- a day when I’ll be set free, set free from my flesh, set free from me.
But lo and below, my dear creator, here I am now. I am nothing, dead, and unable to move even an inch more. Coming your way has jaded me. And though I tried my best to see the blessings you poured out, all that my mind could fathom and utter is, “Why Lord, why?”
I have so much to tell you, so much to show. But then again, I know that you see all and know all. And that’s probably why every struggle hurts. And as I ran for comforting arms, I see pointing fingers instead and I realized that I indeed I had done something wrong. So waited on my porch, hoping that someone would finally come my way, but alas, there is none. Lord, is this my sweet sacrifice or my selfish wants? And as I ran back to you, I cannot come closer. For I know that you’re the one who allowed all these to happen. God, I am not you to love so much. If to love you will cause me so much pain, will you please love me less? Will you understand then if I flee?
And sometimes I do question, if I’m the only one who feels the same way, suffering because of sin. Wanting to turn back and change what has been done out of stupidity. It was pathetic of me to start what I shouldn’t have thought of in the first place and for not ending what should have been over so long ago. And so I sulk in all my emptiness as I even find temporary relief in the sight of crimson slowly trickling down my arm.
But you led my gaze upon the cross and you told me that one moment, you had bore every sin in the world and you felt all pain, even this. What more could I say, as you offered me another answer, that the reason why you allowed these trials is to keep me humble. I guess I am not a fan of humility and heartaches. As a human, this is more than enough and I had already fallen.
But I guess this is not the end, and after this rest, you’ll find me coming your way again. Dad, will you still love me?
-prodigal daughter
