Sometimes, at the end of a long day, there just isn’t much left. The reserves are drained, patience is depleted, energy is just about shot. And it’s all you can do to crawl into bed and let it all go.
Sometimes it seems as if just surviving every day is more than enough of a battle. And it is unrealistic to consider anything beyond the race we’re already running.
Sometimes life just gets the better of us. The struggles. The pain. The heartache. The losses.
And sometimes, that’s okay.
It’s okay to walk in the valleys of sorrow and despair, prayerfully for just a short time.
It’s okay to climb mountains of anger and fear, again prayerfully for just a short time.
It’s okay to not even know how to put one foot in front of the other, nevermind attempt to walk or climb.
Because sometimes life is just too much.
And that doesn’t make us weak or ineffective or unusable or less.
And that is exactly where God meets us.
Sure, He’s present always and alongside us on those mountaintop moments of glee and adulation, which is usually when we forget His existence and His subsistence and His constancy.
It is when we are our most shattered and lost and wracked that we most desperately cling to the only place we have left.
In the arms of the Father who only wants to strip away all of those breaking things to pull us near.
In the embrace of the Father who longs most to not watch your heart crumble under the weight of all of those burdens.
In the hands of the Father who knows even your most innermost, unbeknownst, never-to-be-mentioned-aloud fears and drives and suffering.
In the love of the Father who seeks you out, even when you don’t want Him, even when you can’t handle drawing close by, even when you have too many unanswered questions, even when you feel most betrayed by that some love.
Because it is in being in your most battered heart and your most broken soul, that the only way to heal is to find love again. To find His love again.
Not necessarily love in a person, but the only love that can ever fill the empty holes. Not necessarily erase the scars, but the only love that can offer a balm to soothe the pain. Not necessarily fix the problems, but the only love that can stitch the ragged edges back together. Not necessarily eliminate the future, but the only love that can guarantee its presence eternally.
And that love, that love alone, is the only love that allows you to love freely, vulnerably, unabashedly. Because that love, God’s love, will always, always be with you.
It may not provide answers to questions. It may not offer wisdom in hindsight. It may not allow resolutions for struggles. But that love will never abandon you. Never.
And that is a love worth loving freely, loving vulnerably, loving always.
And some day, when you’re ready, and your own fill of His love is so complete that it overflows, you will know that it is time to love others again. To love them anyway, even when it hurts. To love them freely, even when it is risky. To love them vulnerably, even when it requires too much strength. To love them always, even when time slips by. To love them eternally, just as He has loved you eternally, with open arms and a warm embrace and weakened hands and a scarred heart.
You are so loved. You are loved freely. You are loved vulnerably. You are loved always.