It’s two in the morning and you just can’t sleep…don’t want to sleep. Not because there’s something wrong with sleeping. Not because you’re afraid of your dreams or the dark is so overpowering all alone. But because there just doesn’t seem to be a point to it. There doesn’t seem to be any good to be had of going to sleep. Because really, it doesn’t change anything.
It doesn’t change the fact that someone’s confused, or someone’s hurting, or someone doesn’t know where to turn or how to go on. It doesn’t change the fact that though your heart may not be breaking…someone else’s is. It doesn’t change the fact that everything’s not okay at all.
For God so loved the world…
And sometimes, all you want to do is say it’s going to be ok. It’s going to work out. It’s going to stop hurting, or start changing, or slow down or speed up or start making sense. But you can’t. Because it’s not. It’s not ok, not working out, not stopping to hurt or starting to change. And it won’t, for a very long time.
But you can’t stand it, and you just. want. life. to stop killing people. Literally, figuratively, spiritually and emotionally. Sometimes it looks like all life is good at is destruction.
…that he gave his one and only Son…
Maybe your eyes are burning from tears you’ve held back for so, so long. Maybe your pillow is drenched and the pillowcase torn half off, cast aside in a fury of anguish. Maybe you walk through the rooms, turning on every light in a futile attempt to chase away the darkness that’s all over. Maybe you sit in some dim corner, screwing shut your eyes to block out everything with black.
It doesn’t work. Because out of all the inventions we humans have made, we have yet to find the off switch for our memories.
…that whoever believes in him shall not perish…
And it’s killing you inside because you just want to help, but you’re too far away. You’re aching but you’re powerless. Held back and stabbed in the chest, unable to defend yourself or fight back while your attacker moves on to maul those close to you. With each bleeding gash they receive, your own heart tears wide open too. Again and again.
You can’t make sense of it, and all you can do is wish. Wish that it was ok. But you can’t make it ok. Not now, not ever. You never could.
…but have eternal life.
Only He can do that.