I prayed for you to lift my fear—
To silence the riot emerging in my chest.
I thought I couldn’t take one step forward;
I couldn’t obey until my fearful heart was calmed.
I cried for a change of course,
Begged you to turn the ship around.
The seas ahead were too harsh, too frightening;
I saw myself sinking into those waves, knowing I would die.
I asked for understanding,
When doubt kept my mind ruled by sleepless nights.
But I was pushed forward against my will, staggering, blind.
I cried, “Just help me understand; Lord, help me see.” But doubt still darkened me.
I longed for others around me to know, to see, to listen,
To uncover the wounds and bring a healing balm.
But their words fell harsh, like grains of salt,
And left no healing, no relief, no solace.
I begged you not to take my home—
The place you gave, where peace sat undisturbed.
A haven built in a once-foreign place,
Where joy, laughter, life became ours to share.
Fourteen years I’ve called this place home.
Rare, worn-in depth replaced awkward beginnings to friendships,
Strangers turned to family, the once frantic became familiar,
Words previously foreign became a language of my heart.
You gave in abundance, more than I could have asked,
You built this life from the red dusty ground up.
And now, God, you are asking me to leave?
To walk away, to leave the good gifts behind, the gifts you chose to give?
I can’t. I won’t. My heart is rooted.
You’ll have to modify something in me first. I can’t move forward.
Just give me the understanding I need to obey,
Provide the answers, the capabilities, the certainty that I require.
I waited. I have waited. I am still waiting, Lord.
Is all this silence just delaying the preordained?
The waves are still crashing, my heart still screams—
Why won’t you provide a way out?
But now, just now, I am starting to see
That all I have asked were prideful demands dressed in counterfeit pleas.
I sought to be equipped, to be in control,
To feel secure and sure before I would obey you.
You did not give me what I had asked,
Because I asked to trust in myself.
The faith you require begins where I end,
It starts when I learn to obey even in doubt.
Not answers but your presence, Lord—
Not calm seas but trust in the storm-maker.
Not comfort drawn from others’ hands,
But you alone.
If my home is taken, let me find it in you,
That you remain my dwelling place, my refuge, my strength. I
f I lose it all, may I still gain
The fullness of your boundless grace.
So here I begin a new prayer, with a heart still tempted to despair,
A prayer that asks for nothing in myself:
Jesus, help me to trust in you. May your will be done.
Let my heart be yours alone. Let your presence be enough.
