"You are my refuge and shield;
in Your word I hope." -Psalm 119:114
I scream a deep, pain-filled scream into the darkness surrounding me. When I look up, I see nothing; when I'm silent, I hear no words of encouragement; when I feel around me, there is no warm embrace. My entire being is covered by an impenetrable muck that continues to weigh my soul down. It's cold here. My soul is so beaten and broken that I feel like it's lying on the ground, in touch with how truly unimportant it is in the grand scheme. Each breath feels like it brings a fire that is burning through me and is ultimately turning me into ashes. I lie face down, eating the dirt as a reminder that I come from ash, and to ash I will return. Tears roll down my face like the rain that falls from a seemingly endless thunderstorm. Nothing makes sense any longer, how could He leave me here? How could He allow this pain to engulf and suffocate my spirit? What is my purpose? Do I even have a purpose? Would I be better off had I never existed? The endless parade of questions marches at the forefront of my consciousness. Eventually I conclude, "My sorrow is this, the right hand of the Most High has left me" (Psalm 77:11) My broken heart lies shattered in a thousand pieces, I have no gumption to pick myself back up. I begin to drift off to sleep, a sleep that one doesn't awake from...breathe in...breathe out...breathe in...breathe out... the ceaseless rhythm is intoxicating. My mind loses grip on consciousness, a cynical smile cracks across my countenance, "The pain will end soon..." and I breathe in what I hope is my last breath, but, then a gentle breeze picks up... A light shines in the distance. I hear a voice, "Can a mother forget her infant, be without tenderness for the child of her womb? Even should she forget, I will never forget you."(Isaiah 49:15) The chill which had been around me began to fade away into a reviving warmth, the warmth that comforts and consoles you. I feel the pieces of my heart being picked up and molded, like clay in the hands of the potter, so is my heart in the hands of this Presence (Jeremiah 18:6). The muck begins to be washed from me, I feel my soul get lighter. I look up, and my Father looks down into my eyes and says, "In an outburst of wrath, for a moment I hid my face from you; but with enduring love I take pity on you." (Isaiah 54:8) He takes me into His arms and holds me, out of joy and relief I weep. The moments that I had felt as if He had left me seemed to me now as only a bad dream. Nothing has ever been more real than this moment, nothing. His words have consoled and comforted me and have given me refuge from the darkness, they have given me a place of marvelous light.
in Your word I hope." -Psalm 119:114
I scream a deep, pain-filled scream into the darkness surrounding me. When I look up, I see nothing; when I'm silent, I hear no words of encouragement; when I feel around me, there is no warm embrace. My entire being is covered by an impenetrable muck that continues to weigh my soul down. It's cold here. My soul is so beaten and broken that I feel like it's lying on the ground, in touch with how truly unimportant it is in the grand scheme. Each breath feels like it brings a fire that is burning through me and is ultimately turning me into ashes. I lie face down, eating the dirt as a reminder that I come from ash, and to ash I will return. Tears roll down my face like the rain that falls from a seemingly endless thunderstorm. Nothing makes sense any longer, how could He leave me here? How could He allow this pain to engulf and suffocate my spirit? What is my purpose? Do I even have a purpose? Would I be better off had I never existed? The endless parade of questions marches at the forefront of my consciousness. Eventually I conclude, "My sorrow is this, the right hand of the Most High has left me" (Psalm 77:11) My broken heart lies shattered in a thousand pieces, I have no gumption to pick myself back up. I begin to drift off to sleep, a sleep that one doesn't awake from...breathe in...breathe out...breathe in...breathe out... the ceaseless rhythm is intoxicating. My mind loses grip on consciousness, a cynical smile cracks across my countenance, "The pain will end soon..." and I breathe in what I hope is my last breath, but, then a gentle breeze picks up... A light shines in the distance. I hear a voice, "Can a mother forget her infant, be without tenderness for the child of her womb? Even should she forget, I will never forget you."(Isaiah 49:15) The chill which had been around me began to fade away into a reviving warmth, the warmth that comforts and consoles you. I feel the pieces of my heart being picked up and molded, like clay in the hands of the potter, so is my heart in the hands of this Presence (Jeremiah 18:6). The muck begins to be washed from me, I feel my soul get lighter. I look up, and my Father looks down into my eyes and says, "In an outburst of wrath, for a moment I hid my face from you; but with enduring love I take pity on you." (Isaiah 54:8) He takes me into His arms and holds me, out of joy and relief I weep. The moments that I had felt as if He had left me seemed to me now as only a bad dream. Nothing has ever been more real than this moment, nothing. His words have consoled and comforted me and have given me refuge from the darkness, they have given me a place of marvelous light.
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