Thursday, March 24, 2011

He is near the broken hearted.

There is no pain, no agony, and no sense of loss, abandonment or physical anguish quite like the epidemic of the broken heart. It is an excruciating battle between life and death, a rending of the very core of one’s existence in abrupt chaos. As the clock ticks, the beat of time is struck by some cosmic darkness from the outside; the tearing of the soul reverberates throughout the mind, will, and emotions. Caught in a whirlwind of sudden disaster, the body, with all of its silent aches to be known and remembered is reduced to tremulous sighing. Wounded, the sufferer falls. All anticipation of good, all inner hope and self-sacrificial work to gain the return of desire is severed. This recognition of loss can be likened to a bed of wet leaves in a wood during the dark of night. The nearby roadway is gleaming black, and the burn of passing headlights on the pavement are mere lit shadows on the concrete. As a driver spots an animal running across his path, he lurches the wheel, and the vehicle is pitched over a ditch, making immediate impact with a solitary tree. This conflict of time, space, and motion is ended in collision that induces abrupt silence. Smoke rises. Still lit headlights cast an awful half-life beam into the dark woods. The car is a tangled mass of smoking metal. Silent. The bed of wet leaves on which it rests have been apprehended. Every trace of the quiet rain of midnight on their deep stillness now displaced with the simmering monster of foreign heat and arbitrary hatred.

1 How long, oh LORD? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?
2 How long must I wrestle with my thoughts
and day after day have sorrow in my heart?
How long will my enemy triumph over me?

3 Look on me and answer, LORD my God.
Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death,
4 and my enemy will say, “I have overcome him,”
and my foes will rejoice when I fall.

5 But I trust in your unfailing love;
my heart rejoices in your salvation.
6 I will sing the LORD’s praise,
for he has been good to me.

There is only One Unfailing Love in all the earth.

Thursday, March 3, 2011


In a leather-bound book with a cover that reads, "Got something to say," I write little commands to myself….little epiphanies that are thoroughly unimpressive. They are normal. And I hate the truth that I am both of those things.

"Go to the Phillipines."
“What if I had been a dove?"
"I have my father's dry hands."
“I love men. So much.”
“Mom could sell an ape the stick out of a corndog.”
“To serve God is to be liberated.”
“It’s no wonder I’ve been crazy.”
“I love Nathan Douglas McCarty.”
“Why did you just eat that frosting?”

I used to believe that I was really special for the following reasons:

a.) I hated men. For a very long time. And I told everyone I wouldn’t marry a two-timin' masculine son of a gun if he chased me down with a sack of cash and a ticket to Fiji.

b.) I wrote God really long letters, most of which sounded like late 18th century romance novels.

c.) I threw a pack of my friend’s cigarettes into a ditch on my way home alone one night.... And then smiled smugly at God who, without a doubt, rolled His great big ocean eyes.

d.) Everything. Everything. Everything. Was a secret. And nobody heard a word of it.

e.) Boys liked me.

f.) My favorite TV show was the travel channel.

g.) I drank large quantities of green tea and did perpetual leg lifts in front of the travel channel.

For the entire duration of the ride to Nashville, TN to go to college, I kept my eyes out of the window on the passing hills and imagined that I was going to SUCCEED because of…well…see the above list.

It took me 2 lovely days to realize that I was just your run of the mill transfer student who had a nightly leg lift habit and enjoyed the Travel Channel.

It took me 2 more years to realize that God’s got bigger fish to fry than cigarettes, my love letters are high on His priority list, hatred will eat me alive, secrets will be a cancer in my soul, and leg lifts are a waste of my time since I have very little time to work with in the first place.

Sometimes I get lost thinking about how we all have wells that never end, probably because they lead upwards into the unfathomable distance to heaven- to God’s soul. And in-between He and I, in that path, that deep, dark well, are lies and secrets and truths to expose. As I expose, as I train my heart to see Him more clearly, I can drink His water. I want to lift my hands in torrents of the stuff.

So I will.

The entire journey isn’t over yet, (I’m exhausted, I wish it were) but I am normal. I am unimpressive. And I am capable of re-learning all of the lies I made myself believe.


a.) Men are good.
b.) To serve God is to be liberated.
c.) I love Nathan Douglas McCarty.
d.) Eat. The. Frosting.