On the other side of death

I had a spiritual funeral last night.  God and I had to put some things to death.  God has been trying to kill some stuff in me for a long time that needed to be killed but I’ve been fighting.  Last night could have been avoided – but thank GOD it wasn’t. 

I won’t go into all the details here.  Maybe later but not right now. Things are raw and I still have to process some stuff but I do know this – it is going to be okay.  I’m exhausted in every way, I’m physically sore from the fight but God stayed with me.  God didn’t let me down.  God won’t let me down.   I can’t begin to describe how it makes me feel to utter those words AND to believe them with my entire heart.

God never ceases to amaze me.

In the meantime, here is a poem I wrote awhile back which relates to my funeral and what was buried by God’s grace last night.

O God of Jacob . . .
When will my wrestling end?
The tormented struggle within me.
When will rest come?
When will my spirit prevail?

To submit means more than giving up my wants.
To submit means admitting my need.

This burden is heavy; I am tired of carrying it.

The prison of self-sufficiency binds my soul.  The chains of rugged individualism, against which my soul does strive, shackle me. My solitary confinement – a judgement rendered by one intimately closer than my peers.

O God of Jacob . . .

How my soul desires to stop resisting. Can you hear my desperate cries?

to collapse into your arms and as a helpless infant, depend on the care of my Parent, my Provider.

Catch me, God. . .

I no longer want to bear this weight upon my shoulders. My soul is heavy – saddled with my need to not be –
indebted.
vulnerable.
in need.
imperfect.
exposed.
out of control.

I’m tried and weary of this fight. Why won’t my feet leave this shore?  My soul longs to leap from its deceptive safety and be swept up into your breathless wind – to float, to let go, to lose sight of the shore, to be a child.

I need you.  Why are those words so difficult to speak?

Bless me, God.  Consume me.  Let me see Your face.

O God of Liberation . . . rescue me from myself.