E
Epistemes
Guest
Dearest Jesus,
I feel like there’s a great struggle for my soul, and in that struggle I’m constantly the loser. I really hope you exist - because if you don’t, then I guess I’m just insane. I don’t know what you think of me, Jesus. One moment I’m told that you thirst for me, that you love me so much that you wish to die for me again and again, but then, when I sin, you express your anger in terms which cause me to despair. I wish I could bear criticisms for your sake, Lord, like you bore the criticisms levelled against you while on the cross, but I’m not strong enough: I’m so horribly weak that I can hardly bear my own weight up. Week after week I am reduced like Job to all but the ashes from which I came, and week after week, just when I wish that I could curse your holy name, I seek your assistance for where else can my help come? There is nobody on this Earth, Lord, who dares or cares to understands my many bruises and scrapes and lashings and pains, no one who can heal that which wounds me as they tend to their own wounds; only you, sweetest Jesus, only you care enough to tend to me in my great, overwhelming darknesses. I’m so sorry, Jesus, for offending you, for not relying on your grace, for being such a deplorable person at times, for taking advantage of others, for being such a sinful person, for having these defects which cause others so much pain as well. I wish I could hide from the world so that it might not cause me anymore pain and that I might not cause anybody else anymore pain. In my lack of charity, in my pride and selfishness, what have I done in recent days, Lord, but cause trouble? Forgive me, Lord, and help me for I’m just a poor broken creature lost along these pathways, searching for answers but only finding brambles and thorns and a host of dangerous pitfalls. Have mercy on me, Jesus, in your great loving kindness. Dry these tears which have flowed so rampantly in these recent days, and gives me the strength to not rebel against you as I’ve done to my great loss and chagrin. Bear me up from this muck and mud which I’ve lodged myself in, oh Jesus, for your child is so helpless. I have nothing without you, dearest Jesus. I am nothing without you. Forgive me.
I feel like there’s a great struggle for my soul, and in that struggle I’m constantly the loser. I really hope you exist - because if you don’t, then I guess I’m just insane. I don’t know what you think of me, Jesus. One moment I’m told that you thirst for me, that you love me so much that you wish to die for me again and again, but then, when I sin, you express your anger in terms which cause me to despair. I wish I could bear criticisms for your sake, Lord, like you bore the criticisms levelled against you while on the cross, but I’m not strong enough: I’m so horribly weak that I can hardly bear my own weight up. Week after week I am reduced like Job to all but the ashes from which I came, and week after week, just when I wish that I could curse your holy name, I seek your assistance for where else can my help come? There is nobody on this Earth, Lord, who dares or cares to understands my many bruises and scrapes and lashings and pains, no one who can heal that which wounds me as they tend to their own wounds; only you, sweetest Jesus, only you care enough to tend to me in my great, overwhelming darknesses. I’m so sorry, Jesus, for offending you, for not relying on your grace, for being such a deplorable person at times, for taking advantage of others, for being such a sinful person, for having these defects which cause others so much pain as well. I wish I could hide from the world so that it might not cause me anymore pain and that I might not cause anybody else anymore pain. In my lack of charity, in my pride and selfishness, what have I done in recent days, Lord, but cause trouble? Forgive me, Lord, and help me for I’m just a poor broken creature lost along these pathways, searching for answers but only finding brambles and thorns and a host of dangerous pitfalls. Have mercy on me, Jesus, in your great loving kindness. Dry these tears which have flowed so rampantly in these recent days, and gives me the strength to not rebel against you as I’ve done to my great loss and chagrin. Bear me up from this muck and mud which I’ve lodged myself in, oh Jesus, for your child is so helpless. I have nothing without you, dearest Jesus. I am nothing without you. Forgive me.