More Than Church

After a wonderful, refreshing women's retreat, I returned home to the chaos of parenting a tweener and some four-legged children. Let's just say the afterglow of the weekend has vanished—quickly! Too funny that the morning devotional that fell on today's date was about avoiding the dangerous pit of self-pity. How does God know that today—all day—was going to be a day of continually reminding myself of this admonition?

One of my friends and prayer partners called me around mid-day to ask whether I thought it was okay that she step away from the challenges on her home office computer and check out for the rest of the day. Yes, of course. Sometimes we need to do that. I then shared with her my own struggles along with a painful prayer request that was heavy on my heart.

Thank God that we can do that...that He invites us to cast our cares on him because he cares for us. For those of you who have been wounded by a church, and have since cut yourself off from anything to do with God (I've been there), know this: the God who loves you, the Jesus who died and rose again with the keys to death, hell, and the grave, invites you to come boldly before his throne of grace to make your requests known.

The poem that follows was contributed by someone who wanted to share her heart about being real with God. I hope it will encourage you to be daring and try this for yourself. He welcomes it!

"I Can Be Real" — Contributed by Kim McDougal

The shoes are off, lights are out and I'm all alone with you
You, who are the only real thing that never changes
And so when my soul aches and my eyes burn with fire
I know I can turn to you for solace.

The air around me is thin and chokes me about the neck
Still my comfort and peace lie deep within
And when no one has the right words to speak
I can be silent with my mouth and talk to you from my heart.

I can be real with you, let my hair down
Throw a fit, get angry and vow to never speak again.
I can tell only you my inner struggles
Express my hatred for pain and suffering.

I can cry my eyes out, cry in fact an ocean in my pillow.
I can scream to the top of my lungs all the way up the hilltops.
I can pray for hours to nothing but silence
And yet, deep down I know you alone hear me.

My words don't go unnoticed by you.
My tears don't make you ignore my pain.
My silence doesn't make you give up on me.
Thank you, Lord Jesus, that I can be real.