Spoken Word: Pain
Below is something I wrote in 2017 for a creative worship event. It is raw, honest and vulnerable of where I was at during that time. I was walking through ultimately the beginning stages of healing with the Lord - which meant to actually face the pain and to actually acknowledge disappointment, anger, frustration. To ultimately be real and raw and to say yes to the journey of healing, the messy process of it all. And while it is an ever continuing journey I have written a couple others similar to this piece that I will share later on.
I hope and pray that you find this an encouragement, that it meets you in the midst of what you are walking through and that you know that you aren’t alone in the process. I pray that you choose to step closer to Him, to the heart of the Father even if it is the tiniest bit closer. To be real with Him, not hide away, but express what you feel, what has been going on and to truly trust Him with your heart.
Blessings on the journey my friends.
That thing I like to avoid. To shovel it down and just pretend it’s not there. Kept safely hidden away from any wandering and curious eye. I keep it to myself the secrets of shame and deceit. I cling to whatever whispers of truth I can to try and stay afloat. I don’t know how much longer I have left.
For years I have been doing this, trying not to drown in my own sorrow because I would rather keep misery as my anchor, than admit defeat. But why do I do this? Why do I decide to sit and allow the waves to crash over me, when the hand that can heal me is right in front of me? Why do I not reach for it, when He asks “do you wish to be healed?”
I don’t grab ahold of Him because I take offense of that question, what do you mean do I wish? I have been here long enough in this storm wondering when it will end. I’ve tried to swim ashore but the current keeps dragging me back for more. So again I ask, what do you mean do I wish? Of course I wish I wouldn’t be here in the first place had there been a different way.
I’m blinded so much by the offense that I refuse to look past it and grab hold of the grace. He again looks at me, past my excuses and says “then get up and walk for the anchor you have shackled yourself to actually holds the key to your suffering, and what seems like waters deep has only been knee high, because you have been blinded by your misery.”
“Get up and walk,” He says again. “Because there is promise in the pain, and hope is actually your anchor. You weren’t meant to set up camp in this valley, no you have been meant to walk through it. To face it head on trusting that my rod which defends and protects and my staff which guides will comfort you.
You’ve been thinking that your pain is the problem, but really it will lead you to your source. So be my guest and continue to wallow here, wandering around, or you can choose to face your fear, for I will not let you drown here.”
Why go through this though? Why does this anchor of supposed hope seem to weigh me down? Haven’t you said your yoke is easy and your burden is light? So then why does it feel so much heavier? Why does your yoke seem to strangle me? Because now I can’t seem to go where I want to, I can’t seem to actually see properly.
But maybe that’s the point. Maybe that’s why the yoke is there to help guide me to the path of righteousness, for His names sake. Yes, maybe the reason why I can’t seem to see properly is because I am finally starting to be accustomed to your sight, because sometimes blindness is a choice. Because fear has been what I’ve been following and insecurity has been my guide. For years I’ve allowed both to reign over my life, choosing over and over others vices and rejecting your own. I guess being deaf is also a choice when it come to listening to your voice.
I don’t listen and I don’t see because I don’t trust you. I don’t trust that you are above all, see all, and that you know all. I don’t think that I deserve to be healed. But then again if I wanted to be healed I would have started walking a long time ago. But I just want instant healing as if I was flipping through my Instagram account and pressing like. Yet, you said to walk that means I need to actually have action rather than instant satisfaction.
Because the point of all of this as I walk and push and crawl and cry and wale and struggle is to see that you are worth it. That you, who went through all of this and more are worth my pain. That you do not intend this for my harm but for my good so that I may truly begin to understand your goodness, your faithfulness, your mercy, and your truth. Because what is faith if I don’t have to work at it?
As I start to walk into the pain rather than trying to avoid it I begin to notice something different. You are starting to become my guide, my eyes opening as if for the first time, my ears hearing the sweet truth that my soul has longed for, that I am free! And with each step taken hard as it may be I begin to believe that there is that promise you spoke of and as I continue to walk a song begins to come from the very hallow depths of me even when I have nothing else left:
Then sings my soul my savior God to thee.
How great thou art, how great thou art.
Then sings my soul my savior God to thee.
How great thou art, how great thou art!
Yes my soul sings when I have no strength left for the sweet words of praise is all I have. For I keep a grip on hope. For your loyal love couldn’t have run out, your merciful love could not have dried up, for they are both new every morning. For great is your faithfulness! You won’t ever walk out and fail to return, you work severely and also tenderly. And so I sing:
When peace like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll
Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say
It is well, it is well, with my soul
It is well
With my soul
It is well, it is well with my soul
