Dear God,
Joel Osteen gave a powerful sermon today. I find comfort in how my favorite pastor always seems to understand what I’m going through—how he applies the Bible in a way that reflects life today. He spoke about Doubting Thomas, and it amazes me that Thomas is forever labeled for doubting when it only lasted eight days. He followed Jesus for three years, yet in just those eight days after witnessing the crucifixion, he questioned. Anyone would have doubted. Still, that moment defined him. They say Jesus died for our sins—before Him, people relied on prophets or sacrifices, but Jesus came so He could live on the throne within our hearts forever.
I will never forget the dream I had the other night. I was in a war. I was shot, beaten, dragged by a rope around my neck, stomped on, and left for dead. Yet, while it was happening, I knew I was safe. I knew it was a dream. And still, I felt something deeper—a glimpse of the hatred Jesus endured before His resurrection. I also felt what innocent humans or animals may possibly experience in horrific moments: they go through it, but feel no pain. I saw it happening in real time. It was terrifying, yet I felt nothing physically. I was still alive. Then I heard my mother tell me to “get up,” and I did. But I’ll never forget how I looked—eerie, lifeless, dark, almost ghostly. When I splashed water on my face, I woke up. Not afraid, but uneasy. I felt like I had witnessed a small glimpse of the suffering Jesus endured.
I don’t feel stressed anymore. The physical pain is gone. I’m choosing to trust You and rely on You. I’m in bed right now, entering Your rest on this Sunday. I will continue to work on myself. I will keep moving forward. I will choose, on purpose, to believe that You are working.
You know my story. You are working in my life right now. I believe this with every fiber of my being. But why do I still feel so down? I should feel celebratory, yet I find myself lying in bed, watching endless YouTube videos.
It’s already 4:17 p.m. I’ve been up since around 8 a.m. I made breakfast—honeycomb cereal, two eggs, avocado, and coffee. For lunch, I had watermelon, a banana, and another small bite of avocado. Now I’m relaxing with a latte from McDonald’s. I actually bought it yesterday so I could enjoy it today, knowing I’d be home alone.
I hear the dishwasher running in the kitchen, and I’ve paused my favorite episodic, Sex and the City. I’m trying to remind myself that I love quiet days like this. But knowing my car isn’t working makes me sad. I need to let that go. I need to focus on being grateful—that I’m alive, that no one was hurt, that I have food, a bed, and electricity. Maybe if I just watch my show and finish my latte, I’ll feel better.
Time has passed. My feet are cold. I cleaned the bathtub. I’m waiting for dinner to defrost. God, I know I’m being impatient, but I need help.
It’s now 10:26 p.m., and I’ve been in bed all day. I feel guilty for doing nothing but lying here. I’m unhappy, and I feel bad for being unhappy. I just want to feel joy. I don’t know what else to say except—please have mercy on me. I know I’m blessed. I had food today, a warm bath, and a comfortable place to rest.
I pray that I won’t be punished for moments of ingratitude. Jesus died on the cross—I should have spent the day in praise. I’m getting tired now. I pray for peaceful, sweet dreams. No nightmares.
Amen.
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