Micro Musing: Probing the Depths

It’s been exactly three months since I published a Meditative Musing. The task feels completely daunting as I try to put words to all the experiences of these last weeks. I don’t know that I can fully express the depth of the struggle, the breadth of the turmoil, or the determination behind the search.

I normally write my Musings in my head, ironing out the structure, the feel, and the purpose of my words. Then, after multiple dress rehearsals between my ears, it flows through my fingertips onto my computer screen.

But since March, I’ve experienced a new kind of tired—one that goes beyond the body. A weariness has rolled in from the horizon and settled over my soul, making the process of forming thoughts feel futile. I’m used to hearing God’s gentle whispers that, in turn, shape sentences and paragraphs in the depths of my spirit. Yet, now it’s a mental storm—loud, scattered, and relentless—like a radio stuck between stations, spitting static where clarity once lived. The alphabet simply flutters around in my brain. But the energy and concentration it takes to reach out and grab those letters—forming them into words and sentences—feels out of reach.

Words have long been my process. The way I work through the struggle. The way I find Hope in the darkness.

I feel a pressure to come back strong—to deliver a profound and moving Musing that justifies my three-month sabbatical. But instead of the roaring geyser I dreamed, my return feels like the hesitant bubble of a spring God is tenderly nurturing back to life. Last Thursday was the first time in weeks I could begin turning those fluttering letters into the gentle seep of a Meditative Musing.

There’s still an ache in the marrow of my being—like I’m on a desperate excavation for meaning from the ruins of life. My quest has me asking questions of my great God that some may say have no answers, while others may even call heretical. But the growth lies in the search. It’s not simply curiosity. It’s survival.

Frederick Buechner, author of Whistling in the Dark: A Doubter’s Dictionary, said:

“Whether your faith is that there is a God or that there is not a God, if you don’t have any doubts you are either kidding yourself or asleep. Doubts are the ants in the pants of faith. They keep it awake and moving. If there were no room for doubt, there would be no room for me.”

While I may never gain complete answers to all my questions, I can say with certainty that these last weeks of probing beneath the mantle of my faith have given me a profound realization of the vast depth of my God. The more I try to understand Him and His ways, the more His awesomeness is revealed. Each step deeper draws me closer to the mystery of His infinite heart. It is my deepest desire that this journey of questioning and discovery leads me to know Him in full, not just in part.

So stay tuned. There’s a little gurgling spring in the confusion of my soul, pushing small droplets of truth to the surface. I look forward to sharing each one with you as the Lord provides mental acuity, physical strength, and spiritual discipline.

Even though I come back trembling, I come back still—because He’s still here, and my story is still unfolding.