My heart feels heavy today.

I woke up to heart-breaking news. I looked out and saw heavy clouds, weeping in the distance–and I felt like weeping with them.

Today, I am reminded of how much I want You to be real. I don’t care about logic and reasoning. I only care that You see these tears and feel our sorrows. I am not asking why suffering happens. I simply want to believe that You suffer with us.

How many more grievous moments are happening in this very moment, even as we grieve for this one moment at hand. And it seems so supremely unfair that each loss–of hope, of peace, of life–only becomes diluted in the flood of time. I don’t want to believe in a world in which even the smallest injustice is lost to some meaningless void, because every story and every tragedy deserves its own infinity.

Today, I want to believe in Your promise of redemption. Not of reversal, but of redemption. That You would restore to us more than what was physically lost–the parts of ourselves we’ve forgotten had existed. I want to believe that there is a place for our voices to be heard. To know that the collective force of humanity’s pain and sorrow is felt.

Why should it matter that You share in our trials and tribulations? What do I get from You that I cannot find in the comfort of family and friends?

Because no matter how much I try, I cannot adequately pen my every thought and feeling. I cannot make anyone perfectly understand my story just as I cannot even begin to graze the surface of another person’s narrative. So if You exist–if You see and feel the very depths of our souls–then it matters, oh how it matters, that you perfectly understand the feelings I cannot articulate, the anguish I cannot release, the despair I cannot express, the sadness I cannot describe, the heaviness I cannot carry, the brokenness I cannot repair, and every facet of our humanity I cannot even begin to grasp.

Today, I want to believe that You will do for us what no one else can do. That we can share the burdens that we’re too afraid to release. And You won’t be overwhelmed, nor will You turn away. But You will wipe every tear from our eyes, even as You weep with us. Waiting, until the old order of things has passed away.