Good morning…
“My dream life ended a year ago today,” admits my old journal from 6.10.04. “I have been empty ever since. I’ve read and said, “The Kingdom of God is within me.” I’ve read and said, “The Holy Spirit lives in my heart.” I’ve read and said, “Faith holds experiential water.” But right now I’m leaking all over. Tears drench my pillow. And God is playing hide-and-seek with me. He hides. I seek. It’s been way too long since I’ve found Him.
Abandonment feels like an ugly trick.
Complete emptiness aches so badly.
Loneliness is my constant companion.
I’ve tried to rebuild but God has always been my general contractor, and He seems to have retired Himself. So what am I to do when my wall of togetherness has been sledgehammered, demolished? So what am I to do when I don’t feel God’s Spirit guiding me? So what am I to do when my long-standing beliefs about how God works in the human heart aren’t working in my own heart right now?”
******
As I hopped on my elliptical machine to exercise with an old journal, the words above again touched my tears. I write about grief because I have experienced grief. Like King David the emotionally expressive author of many of the Psalms, I have shuffled barefoot through pain’s dark valley, before gradually sensing my way up the treacherous terrain of an entirely new mountaintop.
I am worn out from sobbing.
All night I flood my bed with weeping,
drenching it with my tears.
My vision is blurred by grief;
my eyes are worn out… (Psalm 6:6-7a, NLT).
When I am worn out from weeping and my own vision is blurred, God’s vision for me slowly, painfully rises up from within.
…Sue…
“My dream life ended a year ago today,” admits my own journal page from 6.10.04. “I have been empty ever since.”
“I’ve read and said, ‘The Kingdom of God is within me.’ I’ve read and said, ‘The Holy Spirit lives in my heart.’ I’ve read and said, ‘Faith holds experiential water.’ But right now I’m leaking all over. Tears drench my pillow. And God is playing hide-and-seek with me. He hides. I seek. It’s been way too long since I’ve found Him. Abandonment feels like an ugly trick. Complete emptiness hurts so bad. Loneliness at my core is my constant companion.”
“I’ve tried to rebuild but God has always been my general contractor, and He seems to have retired Himself from my job. So what am I to do when my wall of togetherness is having holes poked in it? So what am I to do when I don’t feel God’s Spirit guiding me? So what am I to do when I wonder if all my beliefs about how God works in the human heart aren’t working in my own heart right now?”
******
As I hopped on my elliptical machine to exercise with an old journal, the words above again touched my tears. I write about grief because I have experienced grief. Like King David the emotionally expressive author of many of the Psalms, I have shuffled barefoot through pain’s dark valley before sensing my way up to a new mountaintop.
I am worn out from sobbing.
All night I flood my bed with weeping,
drenching it with my tears.
My vision is blurred by grief;
my eyes are worn out… (Psalm 6:6-7a, NLT).
When I am worn out from weeping and my own vision is blurred, God’s vision for me slowly, painfully slowly rises up from within.
…Sue…