Dear God


Hey God, it’s me Rob. Most of the time when we talk it ends up just being me listing off things I am thankful for and then things I think I need, and then I ask you for forgiveness for my sins. If I think about it, I talk to you about other people, but mostly I keep it pretty selfish. And, many times, I forget to listen after I’m done talking. I just move on to the next thing and check “prayer” off my list.

I thought maybe if I wrote you, I could get my thoughts straight and you could respond.

And maybe I would listen.

But many times I don’t want to hear what you have to say. Listening to you means I have to hear things I might not want to hear. It might mean I need to do something I don’t want to do. It might mean I have to give up control to you. And though I know if I do my life would be much easier, for some reason I choose to fumble through my life my way because that’s what I have always done.

If I do something good, then I can take the credit. If I screw up, then I get to feel the shame and guilt that has held me back for so long. That sounds dumb, right? I mean, when I put it like that, why would I, why would anyone, choose to live life that way? It’s comfortable. I know what to expect. And, I know I can always run to you when times get tough. And, though I know you want so much more than just my tough times, you are always there to catch me when I fall.

You have a pretty crazy way of dealing with me, God. Maybe that’s because I’m not listening. Maybe that’s why you speak to me through other people, or things I read, or music. Or is that just how to speak to all of us? I guess I expect you’ll shove a loud speaker through the clouds and say, “Hey, Rob…” But instead you speak to me in quiet whispers, sometimes so faint I can barely hear you. And sometimes, when I am really trying to not hear you, your voice is muffled and I can’t make out the words. Sometimes the wall I build between you and me is so thick and so tall that I can’t see or hear you. Those times usually end with me crawling back to you, begging you to save me from myself…even though you already have.

And through it all you still love me. No matter what you still love me. I dread the day when I have to stand before you and go through all my sins; when you look at me and say, “Why do you have such little faith?” But, I look forward to that day as well, because that will be the first day of an eternity of love; of life without pain, sorrow, sickness, or sin. From that day forward I get to experience true love.

I hear you now. You’re telling me that love is available right now if I would just accept it and give my life over to you completely. I want that. At least I think I want that. I mean, I guess if I really wanted that I would do it. But fear holds me back. My desire to live my own life still seems like a better option than being branded as some kind of Jesus freak. What would people say if I told them all how much I love you? Why does that matter so much to me?

Why do I try to make you so small? Why do I want you to fit into a little box of understanding? Why do I even try to understand you God? Is seeking you and trying to understand you the same thing?

I think I will stop here for now. Maybe you’ll respond. Or, maybe this is one of those times where your lack of response teaches me more than if you did. I don’t know. But I will listen.

I love you,



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