Lament

But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies. For we who live are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our mortal flesh. So death is at work in us, but life in you. 

2 Corinthians 4:7-12

We were encouraged to write a lament last week as a way to process what we have encountered here. Laments are beautiful poetic expressions of mourning; the Bible is full of them. I gave it a whirl this morning. It is truly not very good, and I wish I could articulate with better eloquence what I have been feeling, learning, and trying to process. (I am sorry, my English major-ness has yet to develop in the area of lamenting...I will have to work on it)

To run with reckless abandon is forever tempting,

The wind runs through my hair as I try to forget.

Maybe it will rush the images out, or blow them away.

Maybe if I run faster it will not catch me.

They stand on the road reminding me, one after one.

Life goes on. But not without a cost.

 

The trees reach to the sky, even with the risk of being cut down.

I’ll stay low. Maybe it will not see me.

Why is it that in order to become full, it is necessary to be emptied?

It is safer to hide, run, flee, as long as I don’t have to feel.

 

I cannot do it alone. Or I refuse.

He grabs my face with His hands and stares. Nose to nose.

I squeeze my eyes shut; please I don’t want to do this.

Go away. This was not the deal.

He slowly rocks His wanderer, until I have to fall.

There is a net He has prepared.

He is there with me, wiping the tears.

But He doesn’t promise to take them away.

 

He understands. His suffering is mine,

Just as mine is inevitable to also suffer along side others.

Why did it have to look like this?

Sorrow is sacrificial, requiring strength and submission.

Mourning takes bravery and boldness.

Accepting sadness is necessary, but never enjoyable.

It is easier being numb.

But He felt the suffering of all people.

Our High Priest did it for us,

Shouldn’t I do the same?

 

How do I possibly mourn for others,

When I have subdued sorrow for my own losses?

Grief is a growing process, I am afraid to reach up like the trees.

You have farther to fall.

We are called to feel, agonize and weep and also rejoice and praise.

These extremes are dangerous.

We don’t like to be out of control in our sorrow.

Not truly mourning, painting a smile on is safer.

Ironic this is human tendency when we are given the Healer.

With the lack of extreme sorrow,

We are stripped of the gift of ultimate joy.

The greatest rejoicing is only achieved if we surrender ourselves to endure sorrow.

 

We are assured victory in the end, but the journey is sprinkled with affliction.

So that was it... thank you for reading. I am so thankful for all of the love and encouragement I have received through this blog. I am continually being amazed at peoples capacity to care, and I am so very very thankful for you who care for me and want to follow me on this journey.