When I Don’t Have Words

I will pour out my soul

Pour out my soul

Before the Lord

And He will hear me.

 

The world will say, “Woman,

Why won’t you eat?

Why do you weep?

Your heart should not grieve.”

 

I lay the bitterness of my soul

In prayer before the Lord

Weeping in anguish to Him

Who will wipe tears from all eyes.

 

Lord, look upon my face

Your servant, weighed down in disgrace

Do not forget me

Remember she who clings to You.

 

Clinging, clinging

Clinging to You

God of the Hebrews

Cover me with Your cloak.

 

Other foreign women, I know

You claimed; You called your own

Yes, You knit them in

Into Your inheritance.

 

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A Song

And all I want is you, Lord.

I just need You here.

All I want is you, Lord.

Please Abba, please draw near.

I could have the whole world

but if I don’t have You…

what good is the whole world

if it doesn’t include You?

So I pray Your Kingdom come.

So I pray Your Will be done.

Oh I beg you Lord, draw close

Draw close to me now

May Your heaven touch down

And make this sacred ground.

Oh would You draw close?

Because I just want You, Lord

Before anything else.

I just want you, Lord.

My Prayer Right Now (originally written in July 2018)

Here is what I say to You, Adonai: ‘I am the Lord’s servant. May it be as you have said.’ May all the words I believe I receive from You be true and right. I ask you, Lord, to shine your Light on anything not of You so I can throw it out and forget it. Abba, May I treasure your words and your Word. May I treasure them in my heart as Mary did. When the time of Your words come, I will proclaim Your goodness and faithfulness. As I wait in hopeful expectation I will tell others of Your love and compassion. I will worship You in pain and joy, in the waiting and the welcoming, in every season of my life. I am a grateful servant; I have not forgotten the debt You paid for. I know Your timing is perfect and I trust you. Amen.

To Choose to Love

Nearly 10 years ago, I had forgotten how to be loved well. I have heard it said that we accept the love we think we deserve. It may, to an extent, be true. But I hadn’t always believed that I deserved to be where I was. It was a slow degradation; the result of many bad choices and unkind people, some of whom I allowed into my life and some who forced their way in. However, those led me to enter a span of time where I came to believe that everyone leaves: they leave marks, brokenness… and me.

But then came Moose, this shelter puppy who seemed as broken as I was.  And he chose to love me a LOT. He would panic when he couldn’t see me. Break cages to get to me. Try to dig through doors and bust through fences to be where I was. I’m not saying he was 100% stable; his need was sometimes exhausting. But it also revealed to me that to this little (now giant) guy, I was beloved. I was valuable. I was preferred. I’d never felt loved like that before.

Tonight I realized that Moose represents the first time I really believed any creature in Creation could choose to love me. Every day, in every moment, for his whole life. Even when he was destroying things, killing creatures, digging through doors, breaking cages. Even when I lost my patience or got frustrated at our inability to understand one another. Usually, his purpose in those moments was solely to find a way to get to me and get my attention, my comfort or my care.

This reckless love forced my hand… I made a choice to love this neurotic and somewhat uncontrollable dog right back. I decided to love him as relentlessly as he loves me, without restraint and against the sound advice of my veterinarian and friends who said this young pup was just too much. Somehow, his love slowly moved me and mine him. Moose taught me how to love again, and just as important, how to receive love. He taught me to give and receive affection and comfort. He revealed to me that love didn’t always have to hurt. At least, that’s what I thought.

But as Moose has entered the geriatric phase of his life, I find myself bargaining with God. Because I know sometime, Moose is going to leave. Not because he wants to but because such is the nature of this world. And I find myself in a tug-of-war within my heart to love him well and harder. I fight to resist the instinct built over decades of practice that tells me to distance myself, to harden my heart.

I really don’t know how I can bear the loss of him, and that moment seems to be drawing closer. I recently experienced the loss of my dear Grandma, and that loss has triggered some things I’ve managed to ignore for a really long time. I prayerfully ask God to bless Moose and I with a little more time together; that one devastating blow would not follow right behind the other. It’s freaking hard to just be right now. To allow myself to grieve and mourn in a world that thinks pain and sadness are things to avoid and medicate. It’s even harder to love fully when Death hovers right at the edge with the promise of heartbreak. I wish we knew how to deal with “hard” as a community…

So in this raw and vulnerable state, I’m going to call my heartbreak good because it meant there was tremendous love there. I’m going to continue to love Moose well, even if it is tearfully. I will give thanks to God that I can love so deeply and completely as I do, and that I have received that same love in return. I praise God for giving me the strength to bear the weight of loss. The fatal misstep I see so many make in this time is to believe Loss when she tries to convince us that Love makes us weak, vulnerable and guarantees suffering. Some of the best lies are the ones that are mostly true. Love is all those things; but in these very things I am reminded of Christ, and my desire to grow in Christ-likeness. He LOVES us. He loves us in a way that our ability to love only hints at. He reminds me that those who love do not flee from suffering, but bear it in the most intimate and vulnerable of ways. He reminds me that His greatest victory and manifestation of the strength and might of God was only revealed through His humility and weakness, to the very point of death. But most critically of all, and the one we often fail to see when the veil of Death hangs over those we love, is that Death is not the end. Nor is Death the victor. We are all more than conquerors through Him who loved us… (Romans 8:36-39)

Dream – 08.25.18

I was standing in a room that was familiar to me, but I didn’t recognize it. I was elevated; at least a couple stories up. In the room there was a giant window, swung open, across from me.

I walked unhurriedly toward the window. The curtains didn’t move; the air felt dead. When I was towards the center of the room there had clearly been the noise of a great commotion on the streets but as I reached the window it was silent. Not even an insect chirping. The world looked on fire. The light cast over the cityscape around me was red and orange. It made the room I stood in seem sterile and white in contrast.

Leaning out the window, the fiery colors seemed to originate from the sun, but it was larger than any sun I’d ever seen. It was the color of blood and it seemed to swallow the sky. The air moved like waves, visible to the naked eye, yet I felt no heat.

Appearing on the horizon was a giant cube built with smaller interconnected cubes. There seemed to be as much empty space within the larger cube as there was space occupied by smaller cubes but it was hard to tell. The smaller cubes moved together but it was unclear how. Their movement was less mechanical and more like the flow of water, if water were cubes which defied the laws of gravity. This whole thing, perhaps the size of a 2 or 3 story building, was surrounded by fire. I understood that what I looked at occupied higher dimensions than I could comprehend. ‘Strange. Surreal. HOLY.’ I thought.

The cubes that were more than cubes hovered in a way that seemed weightless, and it seemed as if somehow, the cubes weightless rotation moved it down the road and towards me. It’s fire was different; where the light around us felt like it hummed with wrath, the fire around the object felt alive and purifying.

As it drew close, level with the window I leaned out of, I noticed writing on the various smaller cubes.  It was in a very weird language; it felt ancient. I looked closer and it appeared to be a merging of pictures and symbols but in a flowing script.

Suddenly I was aware of the meaning: here I looked upon the name of God and the mere name overwhelmed me. There were many names but I only KNEW a few of them. I knew these were not names of many, but the names of One. As the burning, rotating Word drew close to the window, I dropped  to the ground. I was utterly fearful of the holiness. I was acutely aware of all my “deficiencies,” but it didn’t feel like shame or judgment. I felt filled with a holy awe and tremendous gratitude. Eyes closed, it felt as if I was being cleaned of things I didn’t even know were stealing my life. Leaches I didn’t even notice. Without looking, I felt it directly in front of me. Without thinking, I began to worship. I didn’t even know why I did it or what I sang except it was my only possible response to the situation. Every cell in my body cried out in praise.

Sometimes, I Forget

From December 6th, 2016

 

Sometimes I forget, God.

I forget that You come close when we find ourselves sinking.

I forget You loved me when I was darkest.

I forget that You love us so much, you sent your Son and the Advocate to help us.

I forget You are the God who humbled Egypt for your people.

I forget You are a God who gives children to the barren.

I forget You spilt your blood for us.

I forget You gave us rulers because WE insisted.

I forget all the ways You have been faithful to a faithless people.

I would rather be anywhere with You than in paradise without you. You are my paradise.