Photo by Feliphe Schiarolli on Unsplash
Hearts
ache when hearts break
And
nothing seems to bring relief
But
to suffer for God’s name sake
(My
experience suggests)
Brings
a deeper relief because of one’s
grief.
Losses
suffered castigate hope
So
hope to hold on becomes a fight
When
we cannot cope
We
go to God in our darkest night.
Minutes
that seem like hours
Hours
that seem like days
When
life’s harsh it sours
Leaving
a fog so thick it stays.
Those
forlorn moments of paralysis
Can’t
move, eyes lost in a gaze
Darkest
deep beyond analysis
Desperate
is the one who prays.
Loss
is a dream defunct. It takes us deep into a journey to another world we hardly
recognised existed. Of course, we knew was there all along, but we really didn’t
expect to arrive in Holland when Italy promised so much. Loss is the death of a
hope, yet it is only when hope dies that we determine that we cannot leave it
that way.
Very soon we commence a fight to reclaim
hope.
It, as a conquest, is the spiritual fight of our lives.
It, as a conquest, is the spiritual fight of our lives.
Grief
teaches acceptance of the unacceptable. How true this is! Loss, as it occurs,
and for so many millions of minutes, is unacceptable. We cannot accept what has
forced us to change.
What
is beyond us, that which is absolutely beyond our control, leaves us feeling useless,
helpless, and hopeless. And yet it is only in a street called Unacceptable that
we learn to inhabit a home called Hope that is beyond every hope that can be
taken away.
That
hope is God. That hope is found in God. And God opens the way to a life that
can never be defeated, even though we need to be defeated in order to embark on
the journey to the distant Promised Land of the soul.
***
It’s
not unusual in my life to experience tragedy, and some days there are more than
one. One thing I guess grief has taught me is to expect it. I wouldn’t call it
pessimism, because in pessimism there is no hope, just resignation. I see a
hope beyond loss, and I see hope transcend loss; and, that grief is the
enigmatic vehicle that transports us from spiritual death to eternal life in
the name of Jesus.
I
often wonder of the person who never prayed until they lost every ounce of
fortitude they had. With nothing left, and with nothing left to lose, they go
to God, first perhaps in the fury of fire, telling him how nasty He is to allow
this. Then there are subsequent prayers, perhaps when they are too weak to
shake their fist at God. Then there’s the time when God showed up somehow.
Sound familiar? The longer we spend time with God’s people, the more we hear
variations of this ancient narrative born afresh.
Many people’s prayer lives
had their genesis in grief.
What was designed against them as defeat
they turned, through God, into victory.
had their genesis in grief.
What was designed against them as defeat
they turned, through God, into victory.
The
prayer God loves most is that first prayer, prayed in desperation. That life
situation that brought us to our knees, also brought us to God, and can be seen
as the moment that life could begin, again. Such a paradox is applied to the
reality that seems like an end but is simply a crucial beginning.
The hope we cling to in loss
is that it really isn’t the end. And it isn’t!
is that it really isn’t the end. And it isn’t!
With God through our grief,
hope abides for the sweetest relief.
Bear with God through the fire,
He will get you through the pyre.
Bear well as you can your heartache of pain,
ultimately, this time you’ll see as one of gain.
hope abides for the sweetest relief.
Bear with God through the fire,
He will get you through the pyre.
Bear well as you can your heartache of pain,
ultimately, this time you’ll see as one of gain.
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