Work It Out

"Declaration (This is It)" by Kirk Franklin

...it's a new day / I'm not afraid anymore...

I woke up for Yoga this morning at 8am. Showered. Made a small breakfast. I abhor waking up early in the morning but I suppose I am a "morning person" for my energy level rises to normal level rather quickly.

I have made a pact to exercise more will power and discipline this year. I have extended this to mean I must wake up early in the morning and be productive each day as early as I can.

I have not been waking up for Yoga because I stay up late to study. Not following the healthy schedule.

So I was able to do it today and Yoga was at 8am not at 9. I am not sure if it is because it is raining and ugly, because I am still living under my chronic melancholy, or what but I was VERY upset about it.

I feel as though I have lost control of my life. I therefore try to maintain it in even the smallest areas that I can. I clearly schedule every hour of my day because my time is all that I own and control.

As I walked home, I cried about a lot of things. This is the prayer I sent to God, not as humbly as I should have, but as honest as I am infamous for:

Sometimes I feel like You push me too hard

Sometimes I don't understand why You made me this way

Soemtimes I feel like I can't wait for the morning to come

And for Your blessing to wake me

Sometimes I feel as though You are not listening

Sometimes I feel like my tears are meaningless

As the cheeks they run down

Sometimes I feel like I'm too dramatic

But that just reminds me that I don't understand

Why You made me this way

Most of the time, I don't doubt You because my belief,

My faith is all that I have.

I am still alive and that is all the proof I have that You are alive

Waking up, sometimes, is all the testimony I have

Most of the time I cling to You like nothing else

Because I learned that you don't know that all you need is God

Until all You have is God.

And all I have is God.

I don't have a thing in the world to give anyone

I don't have a maternal hand to stroke my head when I feel the most defeated

And I don't have a tissue absorbant enough to catch all my tears

Which is why I don't release every tear my heart feels it needs to shed

And I don't have a paternal hand of encouragement to rub my back

When the weight of my sadness is too heavy.

But he is a father to the fatherless and a mother to motherless

So let the Devil know that your encouraged.

I hope God isn't mad. And I don't think He is. We all doubt Him and from what I understand, He expects us to. Smart people, critical thinkers, intellectuals write theses to discredit Him, but I don't think He gets offended. He gave us the talent to do so.

People have told me, "Zainab, I don't understand why you believe in God. You're so smart." As if to say only stupid people believe in God. And I do doubt things in the Bible. I don't believe in the story of Adam and Eve. But I know what I have seen and endured. I should not be alive to type this blog but I am and ain't enough luck in the world to have kept me alive.

Besides the doctrines and hard-to-believe-stories, anti-Semitism, persecution of homosexuals, church denominations, hypocrisy, hateful evangelists, my pending degree in science, my inclination to turn to science, and other controversial subject about Christianity, I have just been through some things I should not have survived, so God is as real to me as the keys I am typing on.