from the battle that I wage,
for many are arrayed against me.
- Psalm 55: 18
Life at times:
It's gone to night now. Darkness. Soundclips. Music. Repetition. The air is still cold in April. Everything seems to be changing around me; I can't see anything. It is too dark. She sings her songs. She sings her songs. Lovely notes and harmonies. Enough to send me to sleep.
Still I think nothing is right. Nothing is right. And it makes no sense (how these words are strung together, but that is just a reflection of life - random).
If only we could see the clips or understand the noise to be an orchestra score, then life would make sense. Hurt would expel itself. Pain would be no more. Depression would be the slowing down and silencing of a song. To. Nothing.
If only we could comprehend redemption and safety and the God who began it all (at the start of a sentence He opens). But what you might have me believe or what the newspapers would inform is that redemption and safety are impossible, let alone a God who acts in these ways.
Still I think nothing is right. Nothing is right. And it makes no sense (how these words are strung together, but that is just a reflection of life - random).
If only we could see the clips or understand the noise to be an orchestra score, then life would make sense. Hurt would expel itself. Pain would be no more. Depression would be the slowing down and silencing of a song. To. Nothing.
If only we could comprehend redemption and safety and the God who began it all (at the start of a sentence He opens). But what you might have me believe or what the newspapers would inform is that redemption and safety are impossible, let alone a God who acts in these ways.
Life at times:
"Not only is she not the same girl she used to be," your headlines read, "but she hardly smiles and hardly laughs and hardly knows when to relax around those whose world is her..." And they go on to detail your sad sad state.
Some kid told me one day he never said how much he loved this girl to her face; they never saw each other again. And another got into talking about home, but went silent quick.
I don't know why all of this and more happens to you. And I don't know the answers. And I don't know how much longer it will go on for. When it will stop. When it will re-ignite. Or when it will no longer exist.
But don't fall asleep crying again tonight. Don't wake up lonely tomorrow. Because the Lord is in the process of redeeming you to safety.
Some kid told me one day he never said how much he loved this girl to her face; they never saw each other again. And another got into talking about home, but went silent quick.
I don't know why all of this and more happens to you. And I don't know the answers. And I don't know how much longer it will go on for. When it will stop. When it will re-ignite. Or when it will no longer exist.
But don't fall asleep crying again tonight. Don't wake up lonely tomorrow. Because the Lord is in the process of redeeming you to safety.
Let life be a symphony playing your song. It's gone to night again. It's all gone. Listen. Listen. Repetition. The air is still cold in April. If only we could see the clips or understand the noise to be an orchestra score, then life would make sense.
Life at times calls us to hope (for God redeems your soul in safety).
Life at times calls us to hope (for God redeems your soul in safety).
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