Join me on a journey back through time, Way before the episode at Lazarus’ tomb, Very close to the beginning of a beautiful story, In the perfect garden, where all things should have been rosy, Love wept…unseen, unheard, unconsoled.
In the face of betrayal and death; At the pain and thought of losing What He’d literally invested Himself into; Love wept…bloody tears, to make room for Hope.
In times of loss and pain, I’m reminded of hymns like: “Be still my soul, the Lord is on thy side…”; But how does God console Himself? “Be still my soul, the Lord is on thy side…”? One ordinary-seeming day, Love wept…unshed tears.
Tell me that it’s easy, To rise up each morning at the break of dawn To set your knees in that spot in the mat With the perfect grooves made from wear; A testament to the consistency with which they carry The weight of your desperation and dreams.
Tell me how you’ve gotten used to the familiar aches – The pain of the strain of holding a position That under different circumstances would be called corporal punishment; Hands clasped underneath chin, Elbows scraping the edge of the bed… But none of these compare to the aches That rampage in places the eye cannot see; None of these compare to the screams that no ear hears – None, except One.
There’s a song furnished in my heart this dawn; It is a song of pain and tragedy; It is a song of unfailing and faithful love; It is a song both marred and perfected In my lack of complete understanding and full appreciation. It is an old song, but seems new every morning; It carries the weight of hope and is full of promises and possibilities. It promises such great things and calls for me to be bold and courageous; It calls for me to step out in faith and complete trust.
It begins in the depths; Sounds like a struggle at first, then it breaks free… It is a little spring with the force of a mighty volcano; It is a sound with a single note, Communicating a singular message – Victory!
It begins at the sight of the finish line; With each additional step it soars in might, Bolstered on by the sound of the rushing winds Till it gloriously erupts at the breaking of the tape.
About 365 days since I last sat to write a “New Year’s Message,” And I can’t help but loosely echo the words of the Psalmist… In the 65th psalm, he says, “Praise waits for You, God, in Zion. Vows shall be performed to You. You who hear prayer, unto You shall all men come. Our sins did not overwhelm us, because You atoned for our transgressions. How blessed we are that You have chosen us and caused us to come near to You. How privileged we are to be able to live in Your courts. You have positioned us in Your secret place, And filled us with the goodness of Your treasuries. By awesome deeds of righteousness, You answered us and brought us salvation. You have shown Yourself to be the hope of all the earth, of those far and near. By Your power and strength You have brought great things into being, Stilled the roaring of the seas, its waves, and the turmoil of nations. Even those in the farthest reaches of the earth Have come to know and fear Your wonders. You have set songs of joy into our dawns and dusks. You have blessed the works of our hands and brought us increase; Indeed, You crown our year with Your bounty, And cause our storehouses to overflow with abundance. Everything in sight declares Your praise with joy.”
Days like this (today) are always strange to me; And I can’t explain why, though I’ve tried, Several times, to myself, unsatisfactorily…
Days like this have the tendency to make me sink deep into myself; Cataloguing, Analyzing, Marking, Contemplating, Appreciating… Alternating between speechlessness and an overwhelming deluge of things to say…
Yesterday feels like a dream, tomorrow seems like a wish; Today, here and now, smells like promises and fulfillment; Like layers of abstractions collapsed into a singularity – reality.
It’s a minute to midnight, I’m watching the clock tick-tock its way to a new dawn; Trying to capture the exact moment of the transition; This wouldn’t be my first attempt, Though each time I’d managed to miss the tangibility Of that sharp dividing line separating old from new.
Sometimes I wish everything would come to a standstill – A moment of silence to acknowledge the passing of a season. Sometimes I wish there would be a tremor Through the fabric of existence, To signal the birth of a new cycle.