and wrote down what they heard.
an excerpt from A Plea For Purging’s “Depravity”
I’m clinging loosely to prayers that, lately, I feel as if have fallen upon deaf ears.
Where are You?
Where are You, as my faith wavers?
Where are You in this blinding haze?
And where were You?
Where were You, when I would seek to find joy in my trials, and found no peace?
Where were You when I did not doubt Your love, but could not feel it?
And why won’t You answer me?
Why won’t Your presence pierce this deafening silence I’ve been screaming through for so long?
For so long, my voice has grown weary in Your absence.
For when Your voice once spoke so clearly, there are no words.
The cup You once filled so abundantly has run dry.
And where Your light once lead so assuredly, I feel so unguided.
Still, I press on, for I have felt You in the past, guiding me in my desire to change, finding a path of fallen tears.
It seems I have turned my back and walked away.
I’m seeing my reflection and not recognizing my own face.
Not knowing why You allowed me to get here, though there was a time when the weight of Your reality brought me to my knees.
My shame and my convictions found my heart crying out for change.
When trying times gave way to white seasons, my fears would flee at the resounding sound of Your heart beating within my chest, Your blood coursing through my veins: purifying, and breathing life into this lifeless body.
And now it seems as though I have let the sun set on that season.
The world You freed me from now crushes me under its heel; and this flesh that Your spirit once cleansed is now crawling, festering, rotting from the inside, numb to Your touch, calloused, closed off.
I feel alone and overlooked.
I don’t know if I’ll ever find my way back.
Jesus, save me. All over again.
Please, talk to me. Open my ears.