How Deep the Father's Love For Us

How deep the Father's love for us

How vast beyond all measure

That He should give His only Son
To make a wretch His treasure



How great the pain of searing loss,

The Father turns His face away

As wounds which mar the chosen One

Bring many sons to glory



Behold the Man upon a cross,

My sin upon His shoulders

Ashamed I hear my barking voice

Call out among the scoffers



It was my sin that held Him there

Until it was accomplished

His dying breath has brought me life

I know that it is finished



I will not boast in anything

No gifts, no power, no wisdom

But I will boast in Jesus Christ

His death and resurrection



Why should I gain from His reward?

I cannot give an answer

But this I know with all my heart

His wounds have paid my ransom

Hush, be still

I hate that I don't have anyone to talk to about all of this *waves hand in front of herself*. It's not that there aren't people who I talk to and trust it's that no one wants to hear about it any more. I don't blame them, I don't want to live this any more, but I'm stuck with it and I have to live with this mess and see to the clean up afterward. Sure, I suppose people care about me but they just want this to be done and over with, they want to talk about new things  everything but that. I like listening to my other friends, what's going on with them, who's new, heck even what color lipstick their dog ate yesterday. It's a nice distraction from what I carry on a daily basis, but I just want someone to talk to, someone who cares about what I have to say so I don't have to keep it locked up inside - someone I don't have to pay. Isn't that part of what friends are supposed to do for each other?

People are always telling me to talk to God about it, and I do. He listens to me rant and rave; He hears me when I cry and sob, when I laugh and sees me when I dance - but He doesn't talk back (audibly) and tell me when I'm being dumb, jumping to conclusions, or when I'm right. He isn't physically here to give me a hug and a shoulder, or tells me funny jokes to keep me from crying or being depressed. 

Sometimes I envy the disciples - that they had Jesus physically with them. That they could turn to Him in blind panic and shake him awake, "Don't you care that we are going to die?" and have him get up and tell the wind and the waves "hush, be still." Even when he turns and rebukes them, "Why are you afraid? Have faith." Hush be still. 

If wishes were fishes I could feed the entire world over and still have 7 baskets left over to feed people again. 

I wish with all my heart that I would have him tell me "hush, be still. For even though the whole world will be lost and the stars snuffed out I will always love you and I will never leave you."