Letter to God

Your light is my compass.

The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing.
[…]
Even though I walk through the darkest valley,
I will fear no evil, for You are with me;
Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.
Psalm 23:1, 4

God. God, God, God…

I trusted You — blindly —
when life was collapsing at a terrifying speed before my eyes
(and I allowed it to do so).

When I no longer knew what to do,
how to do it —
or even if it should be done —
I called out to You.

With the strength I had left,
from a place of absolute humility.

It was then, already on my knees,
that I realised I had no control at all
over what I was so desperately trying to master.

And You gave me answers —
answers that did not arrive gently.
They came heavy, almost wounding,
for Your will rarely aligned with ours.

You brought me truth, with striking clarity.
You illuminated what I refused to see,
even though everything was right in front of me —
eyes open, yet blind.

I handed You my life.
Placed it in Your hands and said:

“It’s Yours. You decide.
Do with it what You will.
Because I…
I certainly didn’t know what to do with it

And You did:

You shattered my illusions.
Dismantled distorted beliefs.

Destroyed romanticised notions
born of a lost heart
and a mind I had chosen to keep asleep.

That was when I began to understand
what it truly means to trust in “God’s will”.

To believe in You — with every fibre of my being.
To be certain that You know what is best for us —
we humans, so often lost,
uncertain of the path we should take.

But surrender…
is a daily practice.

It’s so easy to slip into despair,
to doubt the meaning of it all.

When trials come,
when the road steepens,
it’s common for reason to seize the chest —
and suddenly, everything darkens once more.

In this moment, I try to remember You.
And above all,
to renew the trust I place in You.

To know, deep within,
that it is You who leads.

That everything which arises
on the journey of my existence
comes from You —
is Yours, for me.
Part of the plan You have for me.

To accept Your guidance —
however it may come.

Right now, I strive
not to give in to the claws of restlessness.

I try to resist
that old urge to control everything —
as I once did,
and as I learned — in the rawest way —
that such impulse leads only to more pain.

More noise within.

Today, I bring You back into my consciousness.
I surrender once more —
without fear of Your will.

Trusting You returns to me the peace
so often lost along the way.

Today, I once again feel held in Your arms —
those arms that embrace me without judgement,
that sustain me through my most insane moments,
that lead me back to the light
each time I stumble in the darkness of life.

Your light is my compass.

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