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Learning to "Breathe"

Being a pastor is hard sometimes.

Heck, so is being human.


And one of the primary reasons why is disillusionment—that is, having to see something for what it is, rather than what it was hoped to be.

To so set your dreams on something—to so set your life toward a particular purpose, a goal, a place—only to find that when you get there, not only is the grass not any greener, but it’s actually astroturf. It’s not real. It was artificial. A mirage, and you’re still in the desert. This disillusionment, this shattering of the hopes that seemed to pull you forward in this future-orientation, all of a sudden, crashing down into a nihilistic meaninglessness.

When color fades to gray.

When the sun begins to hide, unwilling to come out again.

When all you’ve been living for has yet again been dashed to pieces, and you’re unsure you have the strength to put it all together once more.

Painting by Peter Assad from poems of grace about single "Breathe"

A year ago today, I finished writing a song that encapsulates this downward spiral I seem to find myself in time and again, like a revolving door in my life—this carousel I can’t seem to get off of without finding myself back on it once more.


Maybe this is just a thorn in my flesh, this thing I pray and plead for God to remove that becomes a sort of sacramental assurance of the grace he has for me in this somehow. I don’t know.


But I do know this: in the nothing-ness, in the gray, even in the grave, he’s still there with me, and he is—however slowly—bringing me to life again.


Listen to "Breathe" on:




Lyrics below:


Well, I’m here again, I always find a way

Sinking deeper in this mess that I have made


I know I’m no saint, but the pressure keeps me in line

If I do what it takes, maybe it will all work out this time


Six feet underground, my dreams are all but gone

Nothing left, no sound, nothing to go on


I know I’m no saint, but the pressure keeps me in line

If I do what it takes, maybe it will all work out this time


But then I hear a still small voice

Right here, through all the noise

“Breathe”


Well, I’m here again, I always seem to find a way

But you’re still with me, and you’re here to stay



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