I seek Him out, but moments of rest are so quickly overtaken by a battle that I can’t face. I turn and retreat.
I binge. I purge. I am left lonely and longing.
I am surrounded by lies, piercing and deflating the truth like arrows. The aim is too good. No doubt the archer is skilled.
He disputes my worth. He tells me I am alone. He tells me to give up, to walk away. He tells me nothing yet everything all at once.
His voice is persuasive; his volume too loud. And the lies of this world play an alluring accompaniment. From the horns comes “bitch,” from the strings, “ho,” from the woodwinds, “too much,” and percussion, “not enough.”
I rally to turn the channel, and I hear the contents of my heart sung to a less compelling rhythm.
Lord, I'm in the dark,
Seems to me the line is dead when I come calling.
No one there, the sky is falling;
Lord, I need to know.
My mind is playing games again,
You're right where You have always been.
Take me back to You,
The place that I once knew as a little child;
Constantly the eyes of God watched over me.
Oh, I want to be
In the place that I once knew as a little child,
Fall into the bed of faith prepared for me.
I will rest in You,
I will rest in You,
I will rest in You.
Tell me I'm a fool,
Tell me that You love me for the fool I am,
Comfort me like only You can,
And tell me there's a place
Where I can feel Your breath
Like sweet caresses on my face again.
Take me back to You,
The place that I once knew as a little child;
Constantly the eyes of God watched over me.
Oh, I want to be
In the place that I once knew as a little child,
Fall into the bed of faith prepared for me.
I will rest in You,
I will rest in You,
I will rest in You.
“I can barely hear you. Please grow louder.” 4, 5, 6, 7, 8…still not loud enough. Still not long enough. “Please don’t stop! I need to hear!”
“That is nothing, child, but a fruitless cry to vacated seats. He does not hear you. His do not hear you. Not you. Spit Him out. Spit them out. Vomit. Vomit!”
Spiritual bulimia…And with it, darkness obscures the horizon. Desperate, I reach back and grasp for something real. “What’s that?”
A still small voice is barely audible beneath the clamor... "What? Please…louder.”
“Eat, My child. Drink”
I long for solid food, but I will start with milk if I must. I will not spit it out, though the taste seems oddly bitter.
I will not forsake it, for I still believe it will not forsake me.
6 comments:
That was awesome.
painfully beautiful... incredibly powerful...
i can relate. keep fighting. praying for your healing... praying for a sense that He's with you and holding you through this...
wow marsha you really captured a beautiful raw emotion that many of us struggle with.
hang in there.
He hears you....
-ksteg
best thing I have read in a while. thank you for being this real and this vivid. i too join in praying and wishing you the best.
This is when Ehi writes a bunch of stuff that no one thinks makes sense. Gibberish? Oh well...
Something that just came to me; praise him in the midst of this. Let the forces that seem to trap you know just how big God is. Thank you him for the reality of who he is regardless of what might be happening to you. Because he is above the raging storm. He can calm it with a word. Why doesn't he? How will we grow and workout our faith if it is not tested like this.
I am so glad you still have some small hope, even it is seems small. All he asked for was a mustard seed... :)
He knows you intimately Nortz. Before you were born, he called you. Not just to serve but to be loved. He came down from his throne once and became a man for your sake. He is ready to come down again and deliver you. you have cired out publically. in the desert remember they cried out and had to look at the snake to be healed. now we have him to look to and be healed as well. Just remember to give the testimony as well!
Cheers
We're sitting ducks; they pick us off one by one.
None of this fazes us because Jesus loves us. I'm absolutely convinced that nothing—nothing living or dead, angelic or demonic, today or tomorrow, high or low, thinkable or unthinkable—absolutely nothing can get between us and God's love because of the way that Jesus our Master has embraced us.
Ehi - Do you want fries with that? :)
Seriously, good stuff. Good stuff.
Thanks for coming out to kickball last night. I saw you, and then I didn't. Like a flash. :)
And thanks, everyone, for the encouragement. Catharsis is healthy. Prayer is essential.
Post a Comment