My heart hurts. I feel as if I have failed Lord, but I cry out for your hope. I reach for it in the darkness, the black veil of defeat that threatens to cover my face. I know it can shine a brilliant light in the shadows of my deepest mood, this beacon of hope I have in the promises of my God.
I have not been so far removed or even spent such a lengthy time away from the emptiness of life outside of you to think that I have forgotten its sting, the bitter, acidic taste it leaves in the dry mouths of those who thirst for you. An unquenchable thirst it seems at the time, as the parched tongue is wet by folly and unsustainable pursuits of pointless vices all for the sake of being filled. But the wine of folly seeps through the cracks. And although buckets and buckets are poured into our thirsty souls, unless the drink is your spirit, we are still left wanting.
I remember that feeling, that continuous pouring of pointless pursuits into my gaping mouth, yearning to feel content, but always falling short. Needing something, but being unsure of what. Just knowing I wasn’t happy. I wasn’t full. I was thirsty.
It hasn’t been so long ago that my parched tongue bled, not so long ago that I am unfamiliar with the pain, the pain that threatens to sneak up on me still, unannounced and unwelcome, an old acquaintance wishing for a visit. In those brief moments of pain, where I feel like I am not enough, this is when it comes, bringing an empty wasteland that threatens to invade my thoughts and drag me down into despair.
In these moments I cry, “Oh God, help me! Pour out your Spirit on me Lord!” But then the doubt, the feelings of being unworthy to feel your peace, those lies creep into my brain trying to infect me with their emptiness, a bleak outlook at best.
I hold out my hand, stretching it to you even though I can’t see you any longer. Even though I can’t hear you. Even when I can’t feel you. I stretch out my arm in faith knowing you are there beyond the curtains that blind me. I reach out in faith, a single splayed hand searching for a Savior.
And you find me. You grab my hand before I plummet any further, and you lift me up. You pull me from the well and you set me up on high. You comfort my shivering frame, giving me strength and warmth from the outside. You save me Lord and I am good. You Spirit builds me up and I am fine. In you I find it. I find peace, I find purpose. I find hope. I go on.
Karen Humphreys says
I wanted to say that I read one of the posts you recently had to cut off the comments to and because I didn’t know any other way, I hope this reaches you . I wanted to tell you that after my hospital stays (to numerous to count), I wanted to tell you how much I have been blessed by God to have so many wonderful nurses! Yes, I know there are still some stinkers out there but, many like yourself have been given a true gift of loving, caring, and nurturing…not to mention providing spiritual healing. You will certainly have many rewards in heaven! I have always tried to respect what nurses do and have always tried not to add unnecessary things to your already demanding jobs, especially if I can do it myself. I just wanted to thank you and all the many other nurses out there that go above and beyond and also for the part you play as a patient advocate. May God continue to bless you and I know that there are many of us out there that recognize what you are doing is definitely a gift that many do not have! God Bless You!
brieann.rn@gmail.com says
Thank you so much for commenting! Your words of appreciation and encouragement mean more than you know.