La Lluvia

Recientemente ha llovido mucho. Mucho más de lo que estoy acostumbrado. Sé que ahora estamos en el medio del otoño, pero estoy gratamente sorprendido de cuanta agua ha caído del cielo! Escribo “gratamente” porque me encanta la lluvia. El sonido me da la sensación de calma.

Durante el mismo período, he caído en viejos hábitos como comer tarde y hacer menos ejercicio. Pero sobre todo es que me cuesta estar en silencio.

Es como si no pudiera estar sin música, podcasts ni vídeos de YouTube desde que me despierto hasta me pongo la cabaza en la almohada por la noche. De hecho me duermo escuchando podcasts.

¡Qué ridículo!

Temo que si no estuviera distraido, mi mente me diría cosas que no quisiera oír?


Psalm 51:14-17 (NIV):

Deliver me from the guilt of bloodshed, O God,
    you who are God my Savior,
    and my tongue will sing of your righteousness.
Open my lips, Lord,
    and my mouth will declare your praise.
You do not delight in sacrifice, or I would bring it;
    you do not take pleasure in burnt offerings.
My sacrifice, O God, is a broken spirit;
    a broken and contrite heart
    you, God, will not despise.

I could not write that even half as well. And I have a formal education.

When in doubt — worship.

I have been listening to Ven Ante Su Trono, which is the Spanish translation of O Come To The Altar by Elevation Worship.

I particularly find the Spanish lyrics powerful. My English translation of the Spanish translation of the English original version of the chorus is:

Come before His throne
The Father will receive you
With precious blood
Jesus washed away our iniquities

See what I mean?



I am struggling with whether God genuinely forgives me. Intellectually, I know that is blasphemous. But right now, it is not easy.

I am evermore conscious that I can be so hurtful, so selfish and so proud.

If that was not enough, I can be so private that sometimes it feels that even the left side of my brain does not know what the right is doing. So carefully do I reveal specifically what to whom that I can appear dressed in white, while my flesh is decaying underneath.

It is exhausting. It is like I am running anaerobically, and feel that since I am going far, I must be travelling well. Eventually though, the oxygen debt catches up. And now I think the bailiffs are knocking on my door.

I do not feel God when I pray. I feel abandoned. More than that, I feel I deserve to be abandoned. I know this looks like self-pity – but no one is reading this. I write here, and not just in my personal journal, because I publish more than just my first thoughts.

That is enough for now.

Although as I write this, I picked up my Bible and read part of Romans 7:24-25:

What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death? Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord!

Maybe there is hope.