my soul finds no rest
sleep comes as the day dawns
and the world awakens
spending the hours of the night
mixing, mingling with the shadows
weaving, deceiving, erratic, silent
through corridoors
though sheltered in hollow glow
they own the night
i rise with the moon
feeling at a loss for a day lost
downtrodden for rest has not come
a lingering sensation haunts
have i
missed the midst of your mist?
each night as my faith begins to dim
though i falter you never fail
you beckon from the east
unfurling a new covenant of hope
which shines to the innermost place
over and over again
i am left without words
only to inhale in silence,
breathing in such splendor
in hope of healing and cleansing
from within
so that i may find rest
i will wait through the night for you
though doubt looms and consumes
through the night i wait
for your light
for life
i will wait through the night for you
though i waver
you are steadfast
i will wait through the night for you
to bring rest
Friday, January 30, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
the desert
We get touchy when people say that God spoke to them even if it is one of those instances when you are reading a scripture passage that you’ve perused many-a-time to find that it jumps off the pages at you and starts your blood pumping. No one can deny this kind of experience because it is so real to the individual in a way that cannot always be relayed to others. I think we have all been on both sides of this.
Today I am the victim of said situation. I feel like so much has been opened up to me to help me understand where I am and where I am going. I have been struggling with this time of transition and what it all means, losing sight of both the future and the present. I have had a lot of visions of the open sea and the desert which was made real to me in my time in Mongolia—being landlocked for the first time, watching the land give way to the sands. I had thought of it as my time in the desert, my time of trials and meditation and that I was supposed to come away with something.
I confess that I hadn’t cracked open my Bible for a long time until this morning. I was losing hope. I had been trying to commit myself through a prayer that my conversations with God would no longer be one sided, that it would be continuous and flowing. I failed; I spiraled; I became selfish; I lost motivation. I tried crying out, I tried reading biographies and inspirational stories of people that have experienced God on their journey. I felt as if everyone could see that I felt more lost than ever and yet I couldn’t admit anything, I had to at least try and appear that my act was somewhat together. Cantankerous moods were it seeping out. What bothered me most was that I KNEW God was/is there, I KNEW he was/is faithful, but I just really couldn’t feel him. I felt like I was continually learning new things, but his presence seemed too far to grasp. I felt like I had opportunities to speak hope and truth into people’s lives but didn’t feel at the right quality of heart to do so. There were people I wanted to connect with but I couldn’t because I was ashamed of myself. I was afraid of what people might really see.
That said, I turned to Psalm 106 where my bookmark lay. I suppose I faintly remember that I was battling through the Psalms, seeing how the poets and artists could question God and praise him in the same breath. It begins with thanking God for his unending love and continues with the blessings he has given to the children of Israel. What have they done in return but scowled and forgotten the promises, the covenant.
It feels very much like a delayed effect, because we have studied the Israelites and their wanderings in the desert so much. I am so familiar with their story and all this time I have gathered from it the lessons that we need to not be like them. How about looking at it differently? How about identifying with them? That’s exactly what happened to me this morning. I read the passage and saw that I am one and the same. After it talks about all the Lord had done for them and them praising him it continues:
“But they soon forgot what he had done and did not wait for his counsel. In the desert they gave in to their craving; in the wasteland they put God to the test.” (106:13-14)
Forgive me Father for not being patient and forgetting all that you have done.
I am coming to see that this time of transition is still my time in the desert. I have been asking so many questions about why am I here now that I forget that like the Israelites you are leading me through the hot, parched land and though it is painful and takes time that the promised land lies ahead. That you have provided all along and yet I only think about my surroundings and how I am not happy with what I have and am doing. That I can still worship you in the desert. Continually remind me of your promises because I feel dry and hollow and to the point of desperation, as if I will take anything that will fill me even though I know it seeps and steals my vision. Turn me away from these mirages and direct me to the path. Remind me that these oases are not the land you promised but temporary respite for our souls because you know we are weak; that we cannot stay, we must continue on. When I am weak, grant me the strength to clasp the hands of those around me.
The Lord punished the Israelites and banished them to the desert for 400 years. It is as if I thought there was no out so I just decided to wander the sands, surrendering my fate and hope. Please Lord, do not extend my time in the desert to 400 years but guide me in your ways and forgive me for my unfaithfulness to seeking you. Thank you that after skulking in the dark you have shown me some light.
Today I am the victim of said situation. I feel like so much has been opened up to me to help me understand where I am and where I am going. I have been struggling with this time of transition and what it all means, losing sight of both the future and the present. I have had a lot of visions of the open sea and the desert which was made real to me in my time in Mongolia—being landlocked for the first time, watching the land give way to the sands. I had thought of it as my time in the desert, my time of trials and meditation and that I was supposed to come away with something.
I confess that I hadn’t cracked open my Bible for a long time until this morning. I was losing hope. I had been trying to commit myself through a prayer that my conversations with God would no longer be one sided, that it would be continuous and flowing. I failed; I spiraled; I became selfish; I lost motivation. I tried crying out, I tried reading biographies and inspirational stories of people that have experienced God on their journey. I felt as if everyone could see that I felt more lost than ever and yet I couldn’t admit anything, I had to at least try and appear that my act was somewhat together. Cantankerous moods were it seeping out. What bothered me most was that I KNEW God was/is there, I KNEW he was/is faithful, but I just really couldn’t feel him. I felt like I was continually learning new things, but his presence seemed too far to grasp. I felt like I had opportunities to speak hope and truth into people’s lives but didn’t feel at the right quality of heart to do so. There were people I wanted to connect with but I couldn’t because I was ashamed of myself. I was afraid of what people might really see.
That said, I turned to Psalm 106 where my bookmark lay. I suppose I faintly remember that I was battling through the Psalms, seeing how the poets and artists could question God and praise him in the same breath. It begins with thanking God for his unending love and continues with the blessings he has given to the children of Israel. What have they done in return but scowled and forgotten the promises, the covenant.
It feels very much like a delayed effect, because we have studied the Israelites and their wanderings in the desert so much. I am so familiar with their story and all this time I have gathered from it the lessons that we need to not be like them. How about looking at it differently? How about identifying with them? That’s exactly what happened to me this morning. I read the passage and saw that I am one and the same. After it talks about all the Lord had done for them and them praising him it continues:
“But they soon forgot what he had done and did not wait for his counsel. In the desert they gave in to their craving; in the wasteland they put God to the test.” (106:13-14)
Forgive me Father for not being patient and forgetting all that you have done.
I am coming to see that this time of transition is still my time in the desert. I have been asking so many questions about why am I here now that I forget that like the Israelites you are leading me through the hot, parched land and though it is painful and takes time that the promised land lies ahead. That you have provided all along and yet I only think about my surroundings and how I am not happy with what I have and am doing. That I can still worship you in the desert. Continually remind me of your promises because I feel dry and hollow and to the point of desperation, as if I will take anything that will fill me even though I know it seeps and steals my vision. Turn me away from these mirages and direct me to the path. Remind me that these oases are not the land you promised but temporary respite for our souls because you know we are weak; that we cannot stay, we must continue on. When I am weak, grant me the strength to clasp the hands of those around me.
The Lord punished the Israelites and banished them to the desert for 400 years. It is as if I thought there was no out so I just decided to wander the sands, surrendering my fate and hope. Please Lord, do not extend my time in the desert to 400 years but guide me in your ways and forgive me for my unfaithfulness to seeking you. Thank you that after skulking in the dark you have shown me some light.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Shepherd or Father?
Wondering how to think about God...Jesus presented him as the shepherd that left the 99 in pursuit of the one that wandered away and also as the father of the prodigal.
If I ran away
Would you come after me?
Or would you wait
As a father for a prodigal
Afraid of taking those first steps
What if I get lost
What if I can't find my way
But I know that is better than here
How do I know what I know
These shadows--are they real
What shapes them, makes them
I've always stayed close to home
Always wondered, never wandered
Keeping the path in sight
Not quite trusting
If I ran away
Would you come after me
I feel more lost than ever
If I ran away
Would you come after me
Where I am is all I know
I'd leave for the chance, the hope
of Rescue
Unless you wanted me to stay
If I ran away
Would you come after me?
Or would you wait
As a father for a prodigal
Afraid of taking those first steps
What if I get lost
What if I can't find my way
But I know that is better than here
How do I know what I know
These shadows--are they real
What shapes them, makes them
I've always stayed close to home
Always wondered, never wandered
Keeping the path in sight
Not quite trusting
If I ran away
Would you come after me
I feel more lost than ever
If I ran away
Would you come after me
Where I am is all I know
I'd leave for the chance, the hope
of Rescue
Unless you wanted me to stay
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