24 July 2014

{a walk through} psalm 116

I had arrived home weary.

It frustrated me that I was weary, because life was in a good place - nothing was actually going wrong, why was my soul sad - yet I knew that there was only one place for me to turn.

In my old apartment, I had my spaces for weary. The first space was my living room floor. Next was my bed. Worst case scenario was my car. I’ve had the same car for so many years now that it is one of the most safe spaces I ever encounter. My car’s name is Drew - Drew has heard many tears, fears, hopes and joys.

I have lived in the same basement suite now for nearly seven months. While it is home, it still has not become a place of peace for me. Well, that’s not quite true. It is a place of peace, but I rarely feel like the space is capable of holding me if I break. I think that idea might not make sense to anyone but myself. 

I trusted my old apartment. I trusted its walls and its creaks and its windows that leaked anytime it rained. 

For whatever reason, this new - albeit not really new anymore - space has not yet gained my trust. 

That night though. I was weary. The day had not been bad, but my heart was feeling tender and unsure about things.

So much of my life currently feels like a delicate dance of trust and hope. The lovely part of this season is that it is not a sad dance. It is mostly beautiful. Yet beauty is not void of tension. Beauty is the eyes that can still shine amidst the tension.

I walked in, shut the door, and walked to my room. I closed my bedroom door and moved to the floor. I knew that the Lord was the only one who could meet me where I was.

I knew that He would mend the hurt, but He would only do it if I told Him every single thing that hurt - He would only heal me if I let Him into my hurt.

First I begged Him to let me cry.

Tears are one of many things I have never felt that I have any type of control over. Tears are an unknown to me. They are beautiful and necessary and absolutely loved by me yet I rarely feel as though they arrive when I would like them to arrive. 

So first I begged Him for tears. I wanted to be honest before the Lord and that felt only possible if my throat would be sore from crying. 

I’m not sure if that will make sense to anyone. But that’s how I needed to arrive.

Ellie Holcomb sings: “my throat is worn out from calling for help and I am praying You’ll restore my life”. 

I was worn out because I had not been calling for help.

I had been pretending. 

I had told myself that it was in the name of being angry and not sinning, but really it had been because I was not quite sure how to approach God with my anger. 

So finally I did. 

I told Him of a way that He had hurt my feelings. And then I told Him of another. 

I listed off my hurts, adding in my worries and fears, and I asked Him to step up and be the God that He is.

I whispered and wept, honest before my God in a way that I had missed for a very long time.

I believe that it is when I am most honest before God that He can do the biggest amount of showing off. As in, when I stood up from my space on the ground, an hour later, I was no longer weeping. My tears had dried, my fears were gone. I was no longer unsure about what my life looked like. I felt refreshed and excited, ready to walk faithfully in the things He has before me.

The Lord healed me of my hurt and handed me hope.

If I had not gone before God - in an honest and healthy way - I would not have experienced His healing.

This weeks Psalm reminds me of that night. 
It reminds me that God is gracious and merciful and righteous. 
It reminds me that it is absolutely necessary to call out to God in brokenness. 
It reminds me that God is faithful to respond.

When I was brought low, He saved me.

That is good news.

Psalm 116

17 July 2014


I saw a tweet about tonight’s five minute friday and couldn’t help but want to join in. I feel like a fraud as a blogger since I haven’t written a post (outside of posting images for the Psalm series) since MAY! Yeep. I miss this space. But I also am determined to be a good student in this season of education. So there’s that. Anyway. Premise aside, here’s a blog post from the absentee blogger.

five minute friday

The prompt is bloom, which makes me chuckle because well, I haven't blogged in a while so the idea of writing FOR my blog and not for a professor is both incredible and also seems like maybe I've forgotten how. 

Bloom though. Back to that. 

Last year was last year. It's been written about. It happened. Then the season of rest happened, a season where God just bandaged and bandaged and let me heal. He quieted me and calmed me and changed me and reminded me that not only was His grace sufficient, His love was too. 

So then this year. This season. It's bloom. What else is it but that? It's the spring buds popping up after a long winter, refreshing the spirit and cleaning the dust. 

This season is singing loudly, dancing wildly, laughing until my belly hurts and all the things. 

It's deep feeling, learning what it means to simultaneously rejoice with the rejoicing whilst also mourn with the mourning. That's a delicate dance I'm desperately wanting to dance well. Both mourn and rejoice, sometimes in the same moment. Because I'm sure Jesus would have. 

This is the season of bloom. It's the brightest I can remember. It's my favourite to date.

In church we sang Desert Song on Sunday and gosh I remembered all the times when all the hard parts of that song rang true. 

But this time I knew my line. It came at the end. 

This is my prayer in the harvest (in the bloom), where favour and providence flow.
I know I'm filled to be emptied again, this seed I've received I will sow. 

Amen. Amen. 

Five Minute Friday

{a walk through} psalm 115