Lost with God

Lately, I’ve woken up every day since January 1st in a rut—limbo, the unknown. Honestly, I don’t know what to do. I’m lost. I have no vision. And perhaps worst of all, I have no hope.

They say as long as there’s life, there’s hope. Or is it the other way around? Either way, I don’t have it. Hope is the fuel that keeps people moving, striving, dreaming. But what happens when you run on empty? When every plan you’ve ever had crashes and burns before it even gets a chance to take flight? This isn’t self-pity; it’s just fact.

I don’t know if God has a grand plan or if He’s just having a laugh at my expense, watching me scribble ideas on my drawing board only to erase them when they inevitably collapse. They say He has a plan, and who am I to question the ways of the Lord? Here’s the problem—I’m impatient. I can wait, sure. I just can’t stand not knowing, being left in the dark, fumbling blindly for something that may not even be there. I feel abandoned, and to be perfectly honest, I don’t have it in me to fight for myself anymore. And I’m too angry at God to fight for Him—not that He needs fighting for. So, I cling to my last thread—my siblings. Because I know it would really suck for them if I left. Whatever that means to whoever is reading this.

So, I keep going. But going where? People tell me to pray, to believe that God has something better in store. They say it like it’s a consolation prize. And may I reiterate—I don’t want pity. I just want to speak. To get this out. To breathe.

What’s that verse? Man plans, but it is God who directs his steps. Rejection is God’s protection. Someone say it louder for the person in the back. But how many rejections before protection starts feeling like punishment? And yes, I know there are people in worse positions than me. People who’ve been through hell and back, who have every right to scream at the heavens. But should someone else’s greater suffering invalidate my own? I think not.

I try to push it down, to keep moving. But I don’t know where the fuck I’m going. And when you don’t know where you’re going, how do you dream? How do you hope? How do you stay disciplined? But then again, isn’t that the entire point of discipline? Of faith? To hold onto it when you have nothing else. To keep moving when everything is dark, when you can’t hear, when you can’t speak. There are days I wake up wanting to scream at both heaven and hell. Because I am arrogant enough to believe that God and the devil have nothing better to do than toy with my life, throwing me mediocre problems while real wars rage on. But no, my issues take the cake. How egotistical. How hypocritical. How selfish. But I don’t care. I don’t know where I’m going.

And yet, I do. I think. No, I know. I know what I want. I’m just too afraid to want it because, God forbid, this plan also goes under. So what do I do? Do I go for it? Why not? I’ve got nothing to lose. Except maybe hope, and I already lost that.

So I’ve been rebuilding myself since the year began. Stitching the pieces back together. I think I’m getting there. I think I’m gaining momentum. I still don’t see the destination, but I can picture the journey. Maybe that was the issue all along—I only saw the end goal, not the road. So next semester, I’m putting my best foot forward. Not because I know where I’ll end up, but because I know what I want the journey to feel like. Whatever that means.

And no, God isn’t against me. I know that now. I’m just embarrassed—embarrassed that I put my faith in Him, and all I have to show for it is looking like a damn fool more times than I can count. So yes, I’m angry at Him. But I’m not stupid enough to turn my back on Him either. Maybe not out of loyalty, but because He’s the only constant I know. And He seems to work for others. So if I must wrestle with Him like Jacob did, then so be it. But I’m not sure I have the strength yet to fight for a journey I don’t even know is mine.

Still, I will. Because it beats doing nothing at all.

Anyway, how did your first quarter of the year go?