Wednesday Riff: The Truth. Sort of.

Why is it so hard to tell the truth?

The truth about my doubts and fears,

The truth that anxiety grates like a detuned radio

In the back of my existence all the time.

The truth of feeling increasingly irrelevant

As I pile one year on top of another.

The truth of wishing life were better, easier, less complicated.

Of wishing at times I could hide on a desert island,

One with an endless supply of food, warmth, wi-fi,

And a radio that played only my favourite tunes.

The truth that modern life confuses me,

And at times I do long for the good old days,

Even though they were probably not quite as good as I recall.

I was just younger, more naïve, expectant

And able to con myself that I was somehow in control

And going to change the world.

Why is it so hard to tell the truth?

The truth that I love Jesus, and want to honour him,

But am not very good at it,

And am grateful for the brief moments of wonder and freedom

When I realise I don’t have to be good at it.

It’s just not about that.

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