I wonder how many times it took David to write his Psalms. Or does the Word of God simply flow from God's heart, to His people's pens, to the papyrus pages? And I wonder how many times I would have to draft a psalm right now. I'm afraid that a real honest Psalm would be full of jagged pieces and raw wounds, bleeding, waiting to be healed. I've cried before plenty of times, but to truly lose someone in a certain way, this is a grief I had never experienced before. I don't know how to handle the cresting waves but to give in to the rise and fall and lean on a friend when they hit their downward undulation. I don't know how to let Jesus in, except by the sentence prayers, the few words, the wheezing, gasping breaths of "save me," "i need You," "help me," "not sure how I'm gonna do it this time, Lord." I haven't been praying these often. Sometimes I forget that the small prayers are important prayers. Resolution: Pray these prayers. Starting now.
I asked one of my good friends who has been holding me up, letting me walk straight through it, to feel it, I asked her to give me a number between 1 and 160. "57" took me to the fifty-seventh Psalm. Words.
verse 1 -3 NIV
"Have mercy on me, O God, have mercy on me,
for in You my soul takes refuge.
I will take refuge in the shadow of Your wings
until the disaster has passed.
I cry out to God Most High,
to God, who fulfills His purpose for me.
He sends from heaven and saves me,
rebuking those who hotly pursue me; Selah
God sends His love and His faithfulness."
And these words . . . I don't feel very steadfast. I'm trying. To be steadfast on Him.
"My heart is steadfast, O God,
my heart is steadfast;
I will sing and make music."
I wonder if David was trying to convince himself, to make the statement and live it. This is my choice: Steadfastness. Trying to worship through it. It isn't easy.
"Do you want me to give you another number?"
Psalm 113 verse 3
"From the rising of the sun to the place where it sets,
the name of the LORD is to be praised."
The sun rose and peaked glorious. Now, it's time for it to set. Oh is this hard. Sheesh . . . I had no idea. This process widens my heart with a deeper understanding for those hurting. That fact doesn't make it easier. This still stinks.
But threaded through . . . "His Love endures forever."
"Help me, Jesus."
"He raises the poor from the dust
and lifts the needy from the ash heap;
He sets them with princes,
with the princes of their people."
He is a good Father. I am so grateful that He is strong, that He's been strong enough to hold my questions, strong enough that I can trust that He will love me even when I don't feel "Christian" through the pain. He is my Security. Ah, I gravitate toward security. And while I can't find it fully here on this dusty earth, I can find it in One who never leaves. A Heavenly Father.
And to you, dear friend, if you ever happen to revisit this page again, please know that I care so much, that you shouldn't be sorry for causing the pain. You didn't cause it. It's not really anyone's fault. Sometimes, pain's just the way God has to love His kids. We'll get it someday. For now, we walk through it, sometimes stumbling, sometimes crying, screaming but still walking. Through it. Not around it. Not behind it. Through it. Someday, we'll get it.
It will be okay.