Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Learning to Be a Child, 1.

At the bottom of the moody pendulum,
on those days I feel overlooked,
days like last Wednesday,
I just want to be petty.
Do You see me, Lord? Do you remember?
You said I would live Your child forever,
but I feel like I'm growing old and dying, dying, dying...
Forget being the bigger person.
Let me be childish, as a child.
Pacify me.
These are the days that I wrenchingly know,
that my heart is too small for the land beyond the sea,
that I'm helplessly unready for the world I want so badly.

Why is there ugliness left in my heart?
Why does unforgiveness still persist?
Why is the wound still open and stung by salty tears?
Why does hurt remain? And tears, and sorrow?
Why is there working and waiting to do yet?
Why, LORD? When will faith turn to sight?

Franklin wrote, reminding me that I can and should go to my Maker.
And David too, said that I had the LORD's pity:

My heart heard something true
about the Covenant Keeper's unconditional love,
yet something slighting his trustworthiness, his steadfastness,
His worthiness to be loved, honored, trusted, and feared above all else.

Really? Can I give Him that last-Wednesday heart?
Can I give Him bloodthirsty psalms and abandonment laments?
This heart, with all its doubt and accusations, hurt and dishonor,
Is He patient with it? With my fear and flight?

Know and give thanks, Irene said:

This post is to be continued,
the wrestling to be remembered,
because God cleared his throat,
and this huge age-old mountain in my heart
upped and dumped itself in His sea that day.

how do i approach in a third way that is other from
trembling fear
o no big deal
how do i enter the throneroom bold but not brazen,

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