Closer, not better. That phrase has been settling like a warm blanket over my head and heart.
I want better. God wants closer.
To be honest, I want closer. I want better too. Is there some reason I can’t have both? I wish I could stop asking those kinds of questions.
I’m not getting better, so I crawl a little closer.
I gave up the fight again. I think that’s okay. God never promised I would be able to handle this. It’s more than I have in me. But that’s not really true. The Holy Spirit is in me.
For reasons not mine to understand, that doesn’t make me better, so I inch a bit closer.
Fight for me, God. In this moment I want nothing more than to come even closer to You. I don’t want anything to come between us, even the better.
I lay down the better, so You can pull me closer.
As I lie on the floor, my head in Your lap, the tears come again. Somehow I never lack the strength to cry.
You know me so well. You know I’m going to pick up the better again. Maybe I’ll leave it at Your feet longer this time. Maybe one day I’ll leave it there for good.
In this place of surrender, I may not be better. But You’re closer.
That’s enough. I tell myself that’s enough.
You’re so close, I can almost hear Your heartbeat. I pray mine beats with Yours in more ways than one. I can almost see Your tears. You don’t like this any more than I do.
Somehow this time I can’t even get mad at You. All that comes is, “I love You.” And I do.
Because even though I’m not better, You’re closer.