Psalm 38.

The first Psalm I looked at through different eyes.  Eyes that considered the possibility that there may be a God.  Eyes that were shocked at the words I read there.

I’ve spent the day taking another look…a renewed look…at this important Psalm.  Important because the language is honest.  Important because it comes from David.  Important because it doesn’t sugar-coat the questioning or the anguish in that questioning.

I don’t know the circumstances surrounding David when he wrote this Psalm.  I wish I did.  That information may be available, I don’t know.  What I do know is that I started out reading this Psalm to just be reading it.  To try to sort things out in my own mind about scripture.  What I came away with was a different perspective.  Or, if not a different perspective, a renewed perspective.

I’ve struggled a great deal lately with scripture and it’s truth or untruth.  The past 1.5 weeks have been harrowing.  I have struggled with whether I have lost my faith or not.  Whether God is real or not.  And what I, who is so small, could do about it.

O Lord, all my longing is before you;
my sighing is not hidden from you.

As I sat in Panera today, nursing an unneeded cinnamon roll, I contemplated these words over and over again.  And then I wrote them over and over again…..O Lord, all my longing is before you;  my sighing is not hidden from you.  Over and over again.  Remember writing sentences in class for wrong doing?  It was like that…I just wrote those two lines until they filled up an entire page of my Word document.  O Lord, all my longing is before you; my sighing is not hidden from you.

You see, I thought He didn’t see.  I had come to a very low place and was sure my longing was not before Him and never would be again.  Oh, I’m not out of the woods yet.  I’d like to say that those 3 hours in Panera turned this hard, cynical, fearful heart back toward God with full abandon.  But that would not be truth.

But what is truth is in those moments…hours….I realized that I can’t stop.  I must keep going.  I must keep pursuing truth. Oh, how I have wanted to give up.  But I can not.  And God, assuming He is real, knows that I can not.  And God, assuming He is real; it is before Him that my longing is before.  My longing for answers.  My longing for peace.  My longing for a future.  My longing for hope.

And my sighings are not hidden from Him.  And neither are yours.  Assuming He is real, He must hear my sighings.  He must.  And He must hear yours.  He must hear my sighings on the long, sleepless nights when I worry on how I’m going to provide for my crew.  On what happens tomorrow, and the next day and the next day.  What is a sighing?  To let out one’s breath audibly, as in sorrow, weariness or even relief.  This verse says that those sighings…my sighings, David’s sighings, your sighings, are not hidden from Him.  He hears them.  It’s hard to grasp, but He hears me.

And so I begin again back at the beginning, seeking to see again.  Seeking to know God again.  Seeking to resume a pattern of study, a pattern of learning, a pattern of even trusting–of faith–of something again.

 

Yesterday was a terrifying day.

It’s all worked out now, hopefully even for the better.  But even in the midst of great relief, I’m still reeling from the sheer terror the day held.

Due to contract issues and budget issues, I thought my job was being cut.

When you are a single mom of a crew of four, and have fought for every inch forward, such news can be devastating in ways that I never knew it could be.  Sure, there is the concept that “whatever happens, we must have faith that God knows best”.  But when you are in the midst of watching yourself potentially lose everything, again, it’s hard to dig up a molecule of faith, let alone a mustard seed.

Yet by the end of the night, all was right again–even more than right, as I will be assuming new responsibilities and an increased workload.  I’m taking a break now from work to write this post and rest my number crunching/schedule crunching mind.

Yesterday was Valentine’s Day, too.  Not a day I’m terribly fond of, mostly because I believe it is a created holiday made in order to gain revenue for the card, candy and flower businesses.  I think that it has the potential to do more harm, than good.  Yes, we need to celebrate our loved ones.  But what about the person who so desperately hopes to receive “something” and yet receives nothing.  What does she (or he!) feel about their worth then?  And for those who have been in relationships that have ended painfully in unwanted divorce, it’s just a reminder that they have been abandoned and undesired.

What does this say about love and hate?  I’ve given this a lot of thought over the past several days.  I’m in a bit of a rough place right now where it seems as if I am on a deserted island, with no way out except the end of the story.  It’s funny that in the midst of that island, the concept of love and hate would be what I would think about.  Oh, fortunately I think also of my crew that needs me, and that keeps me afloat.  But as far as far-flung concepts go, love and hate are it.

1 John 3:11-24 is a tough passage.  I’ll not pursue it all here, for time and lengths sake.  But I will look at 1 John 3:18:

18 Little children, let us not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth.

It’s interesting that the author ( I don’t know who the author is, maybe it is John) addresses his readers as little children.  We adults don’t like to be called children.  But sometimes that is what we are.  I feel like a little child today–unsure of the things I am about to write.  Unsure of life.  Frightened.  The author says “let us not love in word or talk”.  Yes, it’s important to hear the words “I love you”.  Sometimes, they are very hard words to hear.  But why does the author say don’t love in word or talk?  I think he may be basically saying the old phrase “talk is cheap”.  I’m a writer, not a talker.  I can write till the end of time and still have more to write.  But if I don’t put actions behind my words, than they are useless.  There are words I wrote earlier today that I’m struggling to “not” put action too, because deeds are real.  Deeds–works, if you want to use that terminology, put feet to the spoken and written word.

Forgiveness needs to be an action, not a word.  Unity needs to be an action, not a word.  Missions needs to be an action, not a word.  And so much more.  They require “doing” something.  Words can be deceptive.  But actions speak loudly.

But what does it mean “in truth”.  “Truth” is something I am struggling with terribly right now.  Truth is exceedingly important to me.  I so much want what is in scripture to be truth.  But when I see or experience the antithesis to what scripture says, it doesn’t make me wonder if the person is being untruthful, it makes me wonder if scripture is untruth.   I am truly struggling with this right now.  Let us love…..in truth.  In deed and truth.  How does one love in truth??  I don’t know the answer to that.  What I do know is that when something is said to be truth, and the deeds or the love does not match or follow up that “truth”, than that truth becomes untruth.

Little children, let us love not with words or talk but with deeds and truth.  I know this verse should spur me on to be more action minded in my love.  And, to a large degree, it does.  But it also hurts and confuses.  I want to know truth.  I want to show love in truth and deed.  I want to know that scripture is truth.

And what is hate?  If Love is in deeds and truth, hate lies in untruth.  We all think we know what hate is.  Here is what the dictionary says though:  to dislike intensely or passionately; to feel extreme aversion or hostility toward.  I’ve also heard it say that the opposite of love is not hate, but indifference.  I don’t know if that is truth, but it makes sense.

1 John 3 has some harsh words for those who hate.  But I don’t want to look at that.  Instead, I will just say that to be hated by someone is similar to some of the darkest things I’ve had happen in my life.  Partly because hate lies in untruth.  When one is told they are loved, and then they are abandoned by heinous crimes or hated for some other reason, the untruth of what was and what is can nearly undo a person.

Does God hate?  We are often told “God hates sin but loves the sinner.”  But it’s hard to understand the holy wrath of the God of the Old Testament.  I’m not saying His wrath there is unjustified.  I’m not saying that any who hate me are unjustified.  It’s just so hard to understand.

I am so tired, this post probably makes little to no sense.  If I didn’t need to go back to work, I’d clean it up.  Make it pretty.  But then would it be truth?

Report Card Day.

After a very disappointing Report Card Day last quarter, today was an improvement.  Out of my three, there was only one F, and F in Latin.  With a promise that it’s “coming up”; and that “I’m going to graduate mom, I promise,”; whatever that means.  A plethora of D’s were raised to C’s and B’s, and there were more A’s than the last report cards.  I am pleased.  Not overjoyed, but pleased.  Any improvement is better than slipping backwards.

Part of getting a second chance is taking responsibility.  They have taken responsibility for their grades and are trying to move them back where they belong.

I know they work hard, because I see them working hard.  But I wonder what I could do better, to give them a better learning environment. How much I fail them.  They give up so much.

But that’s not an excuse.  Grades are important.  Doing your best is important.  I’ve tried to instill that concept into my crew.  However, it’s not a lesson easily learned.

It’s a lesson I often fail at, so how can they learn it?  A lesson I’m failing at even as I type this.  From where I sit, I see a pile of work on my desk that I’m behind on.  I see cobwebs in the corner of the room.  I see children too absorbed by electronics.  And I see a list of goals that have been given up on way too soon, with no motivation in sight to go after them.  And I think, this life is so long.  Too Long.  And I’m so tired.  Too tired.

Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day.  Not a day I’m especially fond of.  Not that I think of it much more than a marketing ploy used to gain revenue by the cards, flowers and candy corporations.  But it is a reminder that much has been lost.  Much.  My soul.  However, in the midst of all of the cheesy, loving posts on FB and Valentine’s Date plans, I know that I have four Valentine’s that I’m very, very proud of.

 

I’m laying here on my couch, as close to the snow as possible.  Window shade is up and I can see it lightly falling in the streetlight off of the church.  It’s supposed to change over to rain tonight; meaning, school tomorrow will not be cancelled.

The dog is snuggled down keeping my feet warm.

It’s bad down south.  ATL is a mess.  Charlotte is paralyzed.  People are stuck on freeways, cars are going nowhere.

Icy.  Cold.  Brutal.

What do we do when that is how our soul or our mind is?  Icy.  Cold.  Brutal.

The snow is so pretty.  It’s really coming down right now, heavily.  Usually the snow would make me giddy.  Tonight it just makes me tired.  I just want to crawl into bed and sleep for days.  Weeks.  Months. Years.

I’ve been struggling with what is truth and what is not truth all week.  Today more so than ever.  This, too, makes me tired.

I read, a lot.  A whole lot.  I read what I think is a wide variety of material.  Could it be wider, more diverse?  Sure.  And that’s one of the goals that I had had for this year.  But this week I am struggling between what is the definition of truth and a good story…a great story.

And, that said, what it means to follow something.  Following a sports team.  Following a news story.  Following a person, whether real or fictional.  Shoot, I can barely follow my own thinking, let alone someone else’s.

In the fight to push forward this year and become more socially acclimated, I find myself today, this week, this year, pulled deeper into the abyss.  I’ve considered taking down this blog.  Shutting down Facebook.  Going to bed to sleep for days at a time.

So many see me as strong.  They are “impressed”, which sickens me.  I am strong.  I have, with the help of this church, community and my job, been able to keep things moving forward for my crew.  They are strong.  They are good.  So many see me from a distance and tell me how good I am doing, how great my kids are doing, how inspiring and encouraging we are.  From a distance.  How strong I am.  I appreciate the encouragement.  But tonight it makes me want to throw up, because I know the truth.

The secret is that I’m not.  Oh, sure, I am strong in many ways.  Have been all my life.  I think I’ve proven that.  But strength takes energy, and energy I am running out of.  Tonight I am not strong.  Tonight I am confused and shattered.  Doubt unlike what I have ever known since becoming a “Christ-follower” has overtaken me.  Guilt overwhelms me.  What if I had been a better wife?  A better mother?  A better “Christ-believer”?  A better friend?  A better anything and everything than what I was and what I am.