Here I am, sitting alone in a cold house, the...

Here I am, sitting alone in a cold house, the night before Christmas Eve. The tree is half-decorated. The presents are half-wrapped. I don’t have the time or money for many Christmas presents. My family is separated. Empty. Empty. empty.

I’m feeling barren, like a late spring. I’m feeling alone. I’m afraid, sometimes, that the Spirit within me is like a stillborn child, and that my soul is carrying a dead thing. I’m often afraid that I’ve killed the fragile hope within.

I’m often too sad to pretend.

I am.

I am tired.

I am broken.

I am so often alone.

The other night, I was with my family. But I was alone. A dark hallway, shuddering inside. I thought I’d lost You. I thought I’d thrown You away. A darkness was telling me “You’ll never get Him back; you are dead to Him. You’ve committed yourself to Sheol. It. Is. Over.” A terrible, terrible sorrow.

Yet, a small, voiceless voice said “It is better to try and to know than to dwell forever in the shadowlands.”

And so I did.

“He who goes out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy, bringing his sheaves with him.” - Psalm 126:6 (ESV)

And You answered me through the Word, made into human form.

Saying:

“I am with you, even to the end of the age.”

And so, here You Are.