God's Tears

God doesn’t condemn me he cries…
I was talking with my friend the other day and we were discussing the act of living. The art of being, and the disappointment of this being all there is. What if there is more, where is the more, how do we find the more? We as men specifically, but as human kind also, constantly strive to find meaning, challenge, and more in our lives. We search. We hunt. We beg. We plead. We claw and scratch our eyes out looking for more, a reason. Yet what do we find? For many of us its heartache, pain, distraction, all of which only further burdens out hearts and increases the hole we are trying to fill.
Whether we know it or not, we are damaging to the core the very beings that we are. So much abuse happens in the world. Most everyone I know has been. Yet we wonder why the world is the way it is. Why we struggle the way we do. How we can live so affected by everything around us, close to us, and inside of us.
The answer, sadly, is that pain drives us forward and drives us mad. The very thing that pushes us to crawl into a hole is also what pushes us to keep moving, keep looking for something better.
And everywhere we turn, whether to God, or away from him, whether to cause pain, or to be afflicted with it. God is there. He is not condemning us. He is standing there, crying, arms outstretched, as if I were his only creation and he was sitting, awaiting my arrival. Or was he pacing, impatiently wondering when I’d know and realize that I was only hurting myself. Or was he weeping; just as He is weeping now at my return, at my homecoming.
He does not condemn us, he cries for us. He cries when we hurt. He cries when we turn away. He cries, knowing that all that we strive for outside of him means pain. He cries when we return. In my lowliest hour, God cries tears of joy. He cries because I am in pain. He cries because I’ve suffered. He cries because I am home. I am home; safely wrapped in His arms, while his tears rain down on my soul, washing my pain, providing rest.
He cries, because I am home. He cries because I am His child. He cries because it’s me, His precious One.
He cries for Me. I am home.
Go home, let God cry for you.

Wretched words of Hopefullness

Face down
Black
Dark
Broken
Holding onto
Nothing
Flash
Bang
Drought of soul
Rising
Screaming
Breaking Silence
Stand
Arms High
Screaming
Wailing
Beating
Why
Wonder
Panting
Sighing
Quiet
Head lowered
Prayer
Questions
Answers
Hope
Forward
Looking
Dreaming
Finding
Wanting
Peace
Healing
Love
Desire
Affection
Holding
Sitting
Waiting
Attempting
Patience