Returning

The pain was far too great. The fatigue, too heavy. So I gave in. I lied still underneath the sheepskin blanket and stared out my window. My mind was spinning, yet numb and empty. All the questions swirled through my head. None of the answers.

I don’t know how, but the levy broke. The salty seas buried beneath layers of prideful self-rooted strength washed over me and drug me into the darkness. I soaked my mother’s sleeve, I ruined a hand towel, and I screamed at the air around me.

The tears eventually stopped. But the darkness, the hopelessness, lingered; into the evening, midnight, and morning hours. Nothing changed.

I didn’t know what else to do.

So I sang. I sang the song I always sing when I need to believe.


 

“I don’t understand Your ways” 

Is this Your way, Abba? If so, Your child is suffering.

“Oh but I will give You my soul….”

I’ve promised before. Here I am again.

“I’ll give you all of my praise”

My fingers nails dug into my palms.

“You hold on to all my pain. And with it you are pulling me closer….”

You feel so far away, Abba.

“Pulling me into Your ways.”

Keep going. 

“Now around every corner and up every mountain, I’m not looking for a crown or the water from a fountain.”

My fists got tighter.

“I’m desperately seeking; frantic believing..”

This is TRUTH.

“That the sight of Your face, is all that I’m needing.”

The salty waves crept up.

“And I will say to You…”

Will I really say this, Lord?! Please assure me!

…….

“It’s gonna be worth it. It’s gonna be worth it. It’s gonna be worth it all.”

“I believe this..”

…….

And finally. After two rounds,

I believed. I had returned.


 

In this broken world of suffering and pain, it’s often times so easy to forget the very truths we ourselves proclaimed just days ago. But what I have learned is this, even if you start the song in unbelief, sing it anyway. In doing so, you will have returned to Him.

“Return to the Lord your God for He is gracious and compassionate; slow to anger and abounding in love.” Joel 2:13

 

“Worth It All” by Rita Springer

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