“In the same way, the Holy Spirit helps us where we are weak. We do not know how to pray or what we should pray for, but the Spirit intercedes for us with sounds that cannot be put into words.”
Dear Lord, I can’t
put my pain into words.
I lie awake and moan,
calling to You from my heart.
My desolate soul wanders and wonders,
seeking You but always getting lost.
Walking in circles for 40-some years,
I know the desert.
My true needs I can’t even express;
I only sense they haven’t been met.
Sitting here in hopeless confinement,
I know a cold prison.
My dreams died many years ago indeed
in a place where You should have been.
Struggling to grow with weak roots,
I know shifting sands.
My hope fades more each day now
as I confront my own dark confusion.
Glimpsing heaven only in a rear-view mirror,
I know a long exile.