I quit.

I wish I knew why I am the way I am.

There are moments I can see a flash of reason or understanding, but it more often than not seems that I am just a lost soul bouncing from one thing to the next being a participant but never a part of something, as if it just doesn’t click. Rather, as if I just don’t click.

I know so much about myself and about people and the world; and yet, I can’t seem to connect the dots.

I cannot seem to be able to explain my quirks, such as why I have an interest with health and fitness yet why I also have a sweet tooth that wins most arguments.

I cannot seem to be able to explain the reason I’m single; other than the aforementioned quirks.

I cannot seem to be able to explain much of anything really. Even when I think I know it all, I realize I’m wrong.

It’s as if my life is a constant example of what it is to float about without meaning.

Which is a bit odd to me since I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that there is hope – there is meaning – even if I cannot explain it. There’s this deep sense of knowing that this life is about something other than my abilities and my understanding.

So, even when I want to quit, which seems to be more often than not, I cannot. Not because I am not desiring to quit, but because my understanding of hope is so intertwined with my understanding of life, if I were to quit one, it would mean quitting the other.

Even at my darkest moments, when that thought seems to be enticing, it is as if the flicker of the light of truth is somehow able to fight the darkness.

Even tonight, right now, things are too big. Things are too loud. Things are too much. And I am not enough. And I want to quit.

I have stomped my feet. I have bowed my head. I have heaved the tears. I have spoken my resignation.

And yet, as if a parent understanding their child’s reactions from a place of exhaustion, the Lord seems unmoved in his resolve to hold me fast.

How do you continue to fight against that? Maybe the point is to give up. To surrender. To submit to the One who holds the ocean at the shore and who bends low to reach the highest mountain top.

There’s something comforting and  scary-exciting about a God so big yet so aware that my life cannot go unnoticed.

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