The Times That Try

This is a page from my journal. In January, our oldest daughter was very sick and in the hospital. There were a lot of other terrible things going on at that time too. It seemed like our little world was short circuiting. We prayed, we took all of the best advice, we asked for deliverance and closed every conceivable open door. We juggled flaming Bibles and stood on our heads. When we did all we could think of doing, we stood. Some of those dismal circumstances have changed. Some haven't. It's okay and God is , as always, very good.




This is a journey- ceaseless, so make me fly.
Life is inconclusive. That's the verdict, the final diagnosis.
All of my cards just can't be played in one hand so I keep on flowing and sometimes
I'm stopped by fear or pain or just plain shock- like a slap in the face.
I hear whisper-y lies that say I'm all alone,
that I've gone too far-
That I thought I heard you-
That I got it wrong.
"It's the sin that so easily besets you."
All shock and awe.
"You may have washed the feet of Jesus, but you're still a whore.
And this is why your dreams die and your daughters' sick."
Like poison darts, the lies come hot and quick.

But there's another kind of fire.
Forging. It takes so much fire.
Of course, I think, if i really never would have asked. ..
But it's too long gone
because my words, like Yours-- they don't return void--
especially not when I've asked for what you've been wanting to give me.

I know there's a depth in you God that cannot be plumbed-
it cannot be sunken into but by this boiling and burning.
My God, it hurts!
You slay me , God
But you're no savage.
A savage has no higher reason.
You take me onto this rickety altar of shaky circumstances.
You strike the match and light the fire
but, in the end I am the one who lays down.
I have to be.
Like you, I show the authenticity of my love when I do it willingly.