A Weakened, Bleeding Heart

Some nights are so calm I almost wish for a thunderstorm to break out; for the thunder to rock the world and the lightning to strike every man deserving. I wish for the pounding rain to stream down my face, soak through my clothes, and wash this ache away. Oh the ache. I don't know how to describe it other than the throbbing of a toothache, or the tight squeezing of a weakened heart. I'm out of words, I feel so broken, so lost. 

I'm fighting tonight between what I know and what I feel. I know that I am not lost; I know that I am saved; I know that no matter how dark the night, the dawn will always come, but I feel so empty. So entirely lonely. Not for people, not for things. I feel lonely for God. I am feeling God-hungry tonight. When I feel like this, so empty, like I wish the ground's arms would reach up and pull me under, my little broken heart cries, and it cries, and it cries. And when the tears are all gone and I'm still lying here broken on the floor, He is always there, still there, to pick me up. For like that poem says, when there was only one set of footprints, He was carrying me. 

I need to rest in my Jesus's arms tonight.

He knows my pain; He knows my past; and He still holds my hand.

A Bird and A Clock

It's the ticking of clock
That echoes through the house
And it's the singing of the birds
That echoes through the night.

Hand in hand they sound together
But one fades away and the other
Stays and stays.

How transient the bird seems, for it
Flits to and fro, sometimes coming back
  And sometimes never here;
And yet the steady clock ticks on and on,
Steady, consistent, no variation or shadow of change.

The clock echoes through an empty house,
Leaving a mark cold and quite unfeeling,
But the bird, oh the bird-
It flits into the sunset, lights on wires
And sings its song over again for me.

Day after day it lives,
Flying where it has never been before,
And God takes note of a sparrow,
While a clock is but a tool that does not live.

So what's my point, you ask?
Well, I was just thinking, it's
So much better to live alive,
Actually sing and fly and breathe,
Than be a stiff echo that never changes,
Never feels, never hears, never sees.

So what, may I ask, are you?
I choose to be a bird.
I choose to live alive, and free.
I choose to sing.

Freedom for the Oppressed

I found a verse today in the Psalms. Chapter 9, actually, for the 9th of April. Psalms 9:9-10, it says: "The LORD is a stronghold for the oppressed, a stronghold in times of trouble. And those who know Your name put their trust in You, for You, O LORD, have not forsaken those who seek You."

How often do we forget that God is always there for us; we find ourselves believing that He is too far to hear or help when we are distressed, in trouble; sad, or lonely. He is my refuge, my Protector, my Provider, my Emmanuel, my Jehovah Jireh, my Savior, my Redeemer, my truest and closest Friend. The One I can always count on, always lean on, always trust. Why do I not go to Him then, when He is the ultimate source of all my help? He says He is a "stronghold for the oppressed," and He is a refuge in times of trouble, an ever-present companion and shelter in every storm of life. It has been said that God will either calm you or calm your storm, and somehow I believe that God calms me more than be calms my storms. He wants me to grow and mature and become more and more dependent and surrendered to Him, and if we never had need of Him, it would never happen.

So once again, all things work together for good to those who love God and have been called according to His purposes.