Waiting for the tears to fall...

The tears are sitting just behind my eyes tonight. Refusing to fall. I'm tired. More tired than I've been in a while. I came across this blog post tonight. Challenging if you go back through some of the blog archives and read their story.

I came across these lyrics from a new David Crowder Band song via the post mentioned above (the song is in the automatic playlist on that post if you want to hear it.) I needed the reminder it ends with.

Lord I'm tired
So tired from walking
And Lord I'm so alone
And Lord the dark
Is creeping in
Creeping up
To swallow me
I think I'll stop
Rest here a while

And didn't You see me cry'n?
And didn't You hear me call Your name?
Wasn't it You I gave my heart to?
I wish You'd remember
Where you sat it down

Chorus:
And this is all that I can say right now
And this is all that I can give

Bridge:
I didn't notice You were standing here
I didn't know that
That was You holding me
I didn't notice You were cry'n too
I didn't know that
That was You washing my feet

And this verse: Romans 15:13 "I pray that God, the source of hope, will fill you completely with joy and peace because you trust in him. Then you will overflow with confident hope through the power of the Holy Spirit."

I needed to hear all of these things tonight.

Now, I'm waiting for the tears to fall.

soul weary

Psalm 42
For the director of music. A maskil of the Sons of Korah. [a]
As the deer pants for streams of water,
so my soul pants for you, O God.
My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.
When can I go and meet with God?
My tears have been my food
day and night,
while men say to me all day long,
"Where is your God?"
These things I remember
as I pour out my soul:
how I used to go with the multitude,
leading the procession to the house of God,
with shouts of joy and thanksgiving
among the festive throng.
Why are you downcast, O my soul?
Why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God,
for I will yet praise him,
my Savior and my God.
My soul is downcast within me;
therefore I will remember you
from the land of the Jordan,
the heights of Hermon—from Mount Mizar.
Deep calls to deep
in the roar of your waterfalls;
all your waves and breakers
have swept over me.
By day the LORD directs his love,
at night his song is with me—
a prayer to the God of my life.
I say to God my Rock,
"Why have you forgotten me?
Why must I go about mourning,
oppressed by the enemy?"
My bones suffer mortal agony
as my foes taunt me,
saying to me all day long,
"Where is your God?"
Why are you downcast, O my soul?
Why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God,
for I will yet praise him,
my Savior and my God.

I added the italics to certain parts of this Psalm, the bits that are really catching me at the moment.

I’m tired. And sick. Heart-sick.

I believe I’m going to make it through this season. At least I believe that most of the time.

I’m having a hard time figuring out what to write here.

It seems that there is much that can’t be said in a public forum right now. Much that is not safe to publicly voice.

I’m going to make it through. But the other side seems distant just presently.

I am clinging to hope with desperation and determination.

And to the belief that even here, He walks with me.

Henri Nouwen on writing again

Making Our Lives Available to Others

One of the arguments we often use for not writing is this: "I have nothing original to say. Whatever I might say, someone else has already said it, and better than I will ever be able to." This, however, is not a good argument for not writing. Each human person is unique and original, and nobody has lived what we have lived. Furthermore, what we have lived, we have lived not just for ourselves but for others as well. Writing can be a very creative and invigorating way to make our lives available to ourselves and to others.

We have to trust that our stories deserve to be told. We may discover that the better we tell our stories the better we will want to live them.