soul ache
I woke up this morning with an ache.
An ache in my soul.
It's rough when the very first thought that comes crashing into my brain after I've fumbled with my alarm is, "I need something. I need something bad." There's a starkness to that reality that makes drifting back into a comfortable sleep impossible. Hello world. It's 6am, the sun's not even up yet, and the traffic outside my window has just barely begun to zoom. I've only got my eyes half open, my cognition switch flipped on 0.47 seconds ago, and I am desperate.
Already.
Wow, getting out of bed is going to be FUN.
I know the answer, of course. I know what I need. Or who I need, rather. It's weird how truth can be so near the front of your consciousness and yet feel so utterly far away. Nonetheless, even as I half-heartedly grasped at whatever was within arm's reach today, I was entirely aware that each thing I grasped for was going to be sorely disappointing within minutes. Three bites in, and I knew that if stress eating ever slightly worked for me it has by now lost all its charm. My usual mindless perusal of my Facebook home page barely distracted me today. I didn't even bother making phone calls. For a brief moment I considered a movie and just as quickly dismissed that thought. My late afternoon nap eased nothing. If anything, the lull in activity as I sprawled out on my bed made the emptiness all the more keenly felt.
In between each of those graspings at I found myself praying, "I need something. I know that something is You. I need You."
And yet...
You're not in the usual easy places.*
Damn it.
I feel like kicking something really hard. Or breaking something into a million pieces. I could go for a long hard run, but that seems like an entirely too productive way to deal with this mounting frustration inside of me.
Why God? WHY? I want to scream. Why must You pull away? Why must You hide? Why must I go searching for You yet again?
I know You are tenacious about my character development. I know You are building within me a foundation of gold, silver, and stone that will not disappear in the coming flames of turmoil. I know You are beckoning me to be a woman undaunted by circumstance, trusting when I cannot see. I know You are unwavering in Your sanctification of my life. But GOOD GRIEF, God, how much character development can You cram into one 22-year-old body?
I know, God, I know. Okay? I get it. I know I need You. I know everything else is like a sick joke compared to You. I have no problem admitting that. I'm ruined without You! What more can I say? Now where the flip are You?
BIG, FAT S-I-G-H.
Somehow over the course of the day, the piercing words of Job have crept their way into the swirl of my frustration. I stumbled upon them quite by accident this morning as a handful of my friends and I were goofing around before morning prayer. One particularly humorous fellow was pretending to preach, and he jokingly asked us to turn to Job 19, verse 32. As there is no verse 32 of course, we continued on in our playful exchange, and claiming he was dyslexic turned instead to verse 23. In the midst of our innocent laughter the poignancy Job's desire sobered me quickly. His words followed me throughout the day, all the way to my late afternoon nap. Now I hear their echo continuing on into my night:
Oh, that the words I now speak were written!
Oh, that they were inscribed in a book, carved on a tablet of stone!
That with an iron pen and molten lead they were graven in the rock forever!
For I know that my Redeemer and Vindicator lives, and at last He, the Last One, will stand upon the earth.
And after my skin, even this body, has been destroyed, then from my flesh or without it I shall see God, whom I, even I, shall see for myself and on my side!
And my eyes shall behold Him, and not as a stranger!
My heart pines away and is consumed within me.**
Dare I believe with Job that this straining to see You has an end in sight? Dare I remember that a day will come when the last leaf falls and the last page is turned, and You Who Remains will put two feet on sod again. Dare I remember the promise that whether my body is breathing or is deader than dead, I will in fact see You for myself? Dare I believe with Job that You won't be a stranger when You come, but rather The One Whom I Know Best?
Dare I believe? Dead and buried or alive and well, I myself will see the God-Man Jesus walk on this planet Earth once again. Dare I believe that I will know Him when He comes? Not just recognize Him as a guy who saved me once, but know Him. Know that He is the One who has been redeeming and vidicating me over and over. Know that His special name is By My Side.
The little wheels in my mind are turning. If I will in fact see my God when He stands upon the earth, if I will in fact know Him when He comes...
That is a lot of knowing between now and then.
You're still not in the usual easy places. But somehow You will be found by me. Because You won't be a stranger to me when You come. And we've got a lot of knowing each other to do in the meantime. My heart pines away too, Job. My heart is consumed within me too.
* To read my note entitled, "You're not in the usual easy places" written in January 2009, go to this link: http://www.facebook.com/note.php?note_id=47962593423
**Job 19:23-27, The Amplified Bible
***A note about strong language: I recognize that I could have readers who may be tripped up over my use of a swear word or two in this particular writing. Let me clarify. This piece is a lament, a deep guttural cry, an honest prayer to the God of my life. Although they have been translated with nice, "clean" English words, the original Hebrew in which the Psalms were written was often explicit as David and others poured out their hearts before God. I believe that He is quite willing and quite able to handle whatever depth of emotions come over us in our pursuit of Him. David was named a "man after God's own heart." I see that this is because God Himself is not afraid to express His anger, sadness, and joy all freely, and He is actually often quite explicit in the outpouring of His emotions (... have you ever read the books of the Prophets in the Old Testament? If "dashing infants on rocks" isn't graphic, I don't know what is.) I could have edited this writing and shared the watered-down version with you. However, in order to honor my God who created emotion and sees all, I felt impressed to share my raw and honest journey with you.
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