To the night sufferers
Some nights, it is not the fear that morning won’t come that monopolises you. It is the fear that it surely come. And you will remain tangled in the shadowy branches of the night. That you will walk through streets with a terrorised spirit. That you’ll go through routines longing for it all to be over...and for night to fall again. Only to fear through that night the morning that will follow and into which you will drag the past night...hiding in it, longing for it...yet intensely desperate to be free from it.
Some nights you are not afraid that the morning won’t come. You are just afraid that your darkness lasts forever. You are not afraid that there is no healing. You are just afraid that you are too diseased. You are not doubtful of restoration. You are just convinced that you’re too broken. That’s the real problem, isn’t it? The fact that your fear has turned into acceptance.
May you find comfort on terrifying nights like these. The ones that are sometimes scattered over weeks or condensed in months, years. May the words reverberate against the seams of your agony ridden soul.
"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”