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 a person’s grief.
So hope to hold on becomes a struggle
When we cannot cope
We go to God in our darkest night.
Minutes that seem like hours
Hours that look like days
When life’s unpleasant it sours
Leaving a fog so thick it stays.
Those forlorn minutes of paralysis
Can’t move, eyes lost in a frenzy
Desperate is the person who prays.
Loss is a fantasy defunct. It takes us deep into a journey to a different world we hardly recognised existed. Naturally, we knew was there all along, but we really did not expect to arrive in Holland when Italy promised so much. Loss is the death of a hope, yet it’s only when hope dies we determine that we cannot leave it that way.
Quite soon we commence a struggle to reclaim hope.
It, as a conquest, is the spiritual fight of our lives.
Loss, as it occurs, and for so many countless minutes, is unacceptable. We cannot accept what has forced us to change.
What’s beyond us, that which is beyond our control, leaves us feeling useless, helpless, and hopeless. And yet it is only in a street called Unacceptable that we learn to occupy a home called Hope that is beyond every hope that can be taken away.
And God opens the way into a life that could 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 uncommon in my life to experience tragedy, and some days there are more than one. 1 thing I guess grief has taught me is to anticipate it. I wouldn’t call it pessimism, because in pessimism there is not any hope, just resignation. I see a hope beyond loss, and I see hope supports 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 permit this. Then there are following prayers, perhaps when they’re too weak to shake their fist at God. Then there is the time when God showed up somehow. Sound familiar? The longer we spend some time with God’s people, the more we hear variations of this ancient narrative born .
Had their genesis in grief.
What was created against them as defeat
They turned, through God, into victory.
The prayer God enjoys 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 viewed as the moment that life could begin, again. Such a paradox is put on the reality that seems like an end but is simply a crucial beginning.
The hope we cling to in reduction
Is that it really isn’t the end. And it isn’t!
With God through our grief,
Bear with God through the flame,
He’ll get you through the pyre.
Bear well as you can your frustration of pain,
In the end, this time you’ll see as one of profit.