This way of knowing God that I find myself immersed in, is a painfully honest type of knowing. A megaphone to the ear, alarm clock without a snooze button type of knowing. I know Him like a child, with wide eyes and small opinions, tugging at His pant leg asking for the answers.
Most days my prayers sound a lot like, ‘Friend? God? You? Hi. I am so lost. I am so small. I need you.’
And without fail, He is bigger. Without fail, He finds me.
I pray that my faith remains in a constant unknowing, in peaceful disruption and in grace filled, messy spaces. But my biggest prayer is this - that I recognize God in every noise, voice, yell, cry, whisper, poem, face. I pray that the God I know is the same in the ordinary, quiet alone as He is in the holy chaos of Sunday morning. That He is the same in the story of my broken past as He is in the testimony of my redeemed present. I pray that I use the words mighty and available, big and accessible, powerful and kind, high above and friend all in the same sentence when I tell people about the God that I know. Because He is not a one sided God, He shapeshifts Himself into the sharp and crooked holes of our sin and writes them a new story.
One that tells the world that His name is Hope.