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.