Open your arms to me, again. I'm tired. I'm tired.
I miss you. I'm lost. I can't find a home. Please, call me back. Teach me to please you. Be patient with me. I'm tired. I'm tired. I'm sick of not being Joy. I'm sick of not pleasing you. Take it slow with me, please. Want me, please. Can we try this?
"Relax." "Enjoy." I want to be honest. I want to be open. I want to please you. I want you to have me. I want you to own me, to claim me. I want you.
I can't give up this fight. Damn the whole situation - not "idle swearing", as Lewis would have said - I won't give this up. If I give up, I'll believe You lied to me.
Don't let go. Be my Light! Open this door, and do not let it be shut.
Open this door, and send me through it.
May 23, 2008
May 22, 2008
a midnight ramble
"If we are faithless, yet He remains faithful." ( 2 Timothy )
'Let it go,' she tells me, 'You cannot hold this as close as you are. It is tearing you apart.' What she says is true, and she doesn't know the half of it. You - my heart, the people I love - I have hidden as much of this as I can from you. Not the facts (those you know), just most of my day-to-day. Why should I hurt you when I don't have to?
For a year now, I've been praying in tears. For a year now, this has been my heart. For a year now, every time I have 'let it go', God has thrust it back into my life and told me to trust Him with it and wait. For a year now, nothing has visibly changed. For a year now, everything inside me has been being ripped to shreds.
I'm the one that prayed for 2 years for a lost dog to come back. I'm the one who prayed for straight teeth because I was afraid of braces. I'm that little nut who wrote You a Christmas letter, asking for a horse I didn't have to pay for, didn't have to feed, didn't have to have on our land, but could ride whenever I wanted. You're the one who granted every one of those prayers. You put desires in my heart so You can have the joy of granting them.
You've never lied to me, Father. You keep pushing me back into this. You know what I believe You've said. I asked You to tell me if I misunderstood. No one has heard stop. Instead, I've been told to move forward, to pursue this as I understand it (but to walk in the Scriptures). I don't understand.
I'm tired. I'm tired, Father. Life has no color, anymore. I can be Joy. I can worship. I am still the bouncy, little being that "everyone knows...[and] loves." When I'm with people, I am the one who comforts and makes jokes. I'm fully alive. It's not an act. I really care, and comforting people has never been based on my strength or wisdom, anyway. When I speak to those who are hurting, I reach out and grab hold of You. It doesn't matter if I have nothing to give. You are always full to overflowing.
When I am alone, I am still alive. I'm just in tears. I weep before Your throne. I fall on my knees and pour my heart out in words or (when they fail me) just in cries or screams or moans or tears. For a year, now, I've been soul-screaming. At first, it was just now and then, on the especially difficult days. Lately, it's gotten more common. This past week, it's been almost every day.
You say not to walk in the "light of [my] own torch." You tell me not to trust the gift, but rather the Giver. I know I could have this in my own strength, just not the way I want it. With one phone call, I could (temporarily) fix everything. I'd just destroy myself and everything I love in the process. I gave it up to You. Then You pushed it back at me. You put me back into this. I'm glad You pushed me into this again, because You've said You're going to redeem it and give it to me in You. I'm just falling apart because I don't see any change. I feel like Elijah: told to pray for rain, sending a servant up a hill seven times. The sixth time, there was still no rain. I'm asking for what You said You'd give! Why is there nothing? Why does everything seem to be moving backwards? But the seventh time, there was a cloud. The seventh time, the rains came flooding in.
I'm angry. I'm hurt. Sometimes, I feel betrayed. Usually, I just want to bury my face in You and weep it all out. I don't understand! I'm hurting! This died; I buried it! Now I can't bury it. I don't want to let it go again. You gave it back to me, alive and whole! You gave it back to me, and I tried so hard to follow what You said! Now, I look at this thing I love and it seems dead again. NO! NO! NO! You gave this to me, living! You didn't tell me, "Stop." You told me, "Trust Me to work it out; Relax; Enjoy!" You don't lie. I'm holding what feels like a corpse, but I can't let go again, Father. It's my life, it's my heart that has stopped living. I let this go once and You gave it back. Do not play with me. You're not like that. Letting this go again would make me feel that You had lied to me. I don't understand! I'm tired! I hurt all through me! Remember what I am. Don't forget me.
Hold tight. Hold tight.
"We do not make requests of You because we are righteous, but because of Your great mercy." ( Daniel )
'Let it go,' she tells me, 'You cannot hold this as close as you are. It is tearing you apart.' What she says is true, and she doesn't know the half of it. You - my heart, the people I love - I have hidden as much of this as I can from you. Not the facts (those you know), just most of my day-to-day. Why should I hurt you when I don't have to?
For a year now, I've been praying in tears. For a year now, this has been my heart. For a year now, every time I have 'let it go', God has thrust it back into my life and told me to trust Him with it and wait. For a year now, nothing has visibly changed. For a year now, everything inside me has been being ripped to shreds.
I'm the one that prayed for 2 years for a lost dog to come back. I'm the one who prayed for straight teeth because I was afraid of braces. I'm that little nut who wrote You a Christmas letter, asking for a horse I didn't have to pay for, didn't have to feed, didn't have to have on our land, but could ride whenever I wanted. You're the one who granted every one of those prayers. You put desires in my heart so You can have the joy of granting them.
You've never lied to me, Father. You keep pushing me back into this. You know what I believe You've said. I asked You to tell me if I misunderstood. No one has heard stop. Instead, I've been told to move forward, to pursue this as I understand it (but to walk in the Scriptures). I don't understand.
I'm tired. I'm tired, Father. Life has no color, anymore. I can be Joy. I can worship. I am still the bouncy, little being that "everyone knows...[and] loves." When I'm with people, I am the one who comforts and makes jokes. I'm fully alive. It's not an act. I really care, and comforting people has never been based on my strength or wisdom, anyway. When I speak to those who are hurting, I reach out and grab hold of You. It doesn't matter if I have nothing to give. You are always full to overflowing.
When I am alone, I am still alive. I'm just in tears. I weep before Your throne. I fall on my knees and pour my heart out in words or (when they fail me) just in cries or screams or moans or tears. For a year, now, I've been soul-screaming. At first, it was just now and then, on the especially difficult days. Lately, it's gotten more common. This past week, it's been almost every day.
You say not to walk in the "light of [my] own torch." You tell me not to trust the gift, but rather the Giver. I know I could have this in my own strength, just not the way I want it. With one phone call, I could (temporarily) fix everything. I'd just destroy myself and everything I love in the process. I gave it up to You. Then You pushed it back at me. You put me back into this. I'm glad You pushed me into this again, because You've said You're going to redeem it and give it to me in You. I'm just falling apart because I don't see any change. I feel like Elijah: told to pray for rain, sending a servant up a hill seven times. The sixth time, there was still no rain. I'm asking for what You said You'd give! Why is there nothing? Why does everything seem to be moving backwards? But the seventh time, there was a cloud. The seventh time, the rains came flooding in.
I'm angry. I'm hurt. Sometimes, I feel betrayed. Usually, I just want to bury my face in You and weep it all out. I don't understand! I'm hurting! This died; I buried it! Now I can't bury it. I don't want to let it go again. You gave it back to me, alive and whole! You gave it back to me, and I tried so hard to follow what You said! Now, I look at this thing I love and it seems dead again. NO! NO! NO! You gave this to me, living! You didn't tell me, "Stop." You told me, "Trust Me to work it out; Relax; Enjoy!" You don't lie. I'm holding what feels like a corpse, but I can't let go again, Father. It's my life, it's my heart that has stopped living. I let this go once and You gave it back. Do not play with me. You're not like that. Letting this go again would make me feel that You had lied to me. I don't understand! I'm tired! I hurt all through me! Remember what I am. Don't forget me.
Hold tight. Hold tight.
"We do not make requests of You because we are righteous, but because of Your great mercy." ( Daniel )
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