My God.

This piece is a prayer that I wrote. Oh how God loves us, oh how He listens to every tender syllable that slips from our mouths. Oh how I love Him. Over these past few months, I’ve learnt how little I can rely on these thoughts of mine and so this prayer contains a plea that I would not paint my picture of God based on my interpretation of Him, but on who His word says He is.



My God.

By Laura Craig

My God. There is no-one bigger, no-one stronger. No-one else who’s voice splits cedars.

Strong when I am not, faith-filled when I am faithless.

Inviting me closer always, speaking soft words of comfort as conflict wages inside, collecting my tears as they stream compulsively down my heated face.

There is not a word said to you that you do not hear.

My God, let me not base the picture I paint of you on the things I see with these human eyes, the things I hear with these human ears, but on your word. Your solid word.

Your meaty word, transforming me, my mind, making me more like you.

There is no-where else where I am more at peace than in your presence, your spirit-filled presence.

Great. Majestic. Powerful. Holy. Good. Loving. Kind.

You are kind. Make me new again, as I kneel before you and admit that I haven’t figured out my life.

I don’t think I ever will and that is a painful thought. But I need not worry. I need not be anxious. I need not fear. Even though sometimes I do worry, sometimes I am anxious, sometimes I do fear. I need not.

Take my shallow efforts to do things my way and use them for your glory, your honour.

Teach me how to worship. Teach me how to LOVE like you LOVE. Not ideal love. But real love.

Let love be a reality in my life. Let love be a root from which my actions flow. Big ask. Big God.


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