Friday, January 28, 2011

A Letter To A Broken Heart

This is my School of Biblical Studies assignment for Psalm 23, to write a letter capturing the characteristics of God in that psalm. I took some poetic and heart license, of course. :)

A Letter To A Broken Heart

Dear Friend,

I am so sorry for the hurt you are going through. I have been through pain, and I know what I have experienced is not the same as you, but the only thing that truly comforted me, to the deepest places of my pain, was God coming alongside me and just being there, saying, “I hurt for what you are going through. Can I help bear the hurt for you and walk with you?”

His question didn’t leave me speechless but dumbfounded. Now he wanted to get involved in my life!?!? Here was GOD “acting” like he cared!?!

The torrential dam of my anger, frustration, and pain broke lose, plummeting him like a flash flood – destructive and dirty were my waters, but still he stood – unmoving against my deluge. I expected a backwash of “I know-it-alls” in return, and instead of the verbal rebuke of God, I heard no words but saw bright yet soft eyes that seemed to soak up my spill like a sponge. I saw his body once “holy” and unmarked become riddled with shrapnel and seeping with sores. His scarlet stains eerily reflected mine.

My storm did not abate, but I raged and I pounded his existence until I contained – nothing – but brokenness on the flooded floor.

My wreckage was spent. I could not meet his gaze and look into… was it Understanding that I saw? I felt his gentle hands lift my deflated body into his arms and whisper, “I am pierced by your pain, your sins, your sorrows. I take on your hurts, your hostilities, your desperations. My wounds are the only thing that heals the deep woundedness in you.” As he carried my brokenness, his brokenness became evident. As he carried my punctured heart, he shared his whole heart with mine.

I cannot tell you that I was all better from that day on, nor can I tell you that I was all bad either. But I will tell you this, that I have found the Hospital that Heals. He can handle my wreckage. He can stand in my storm. And He can heal my heart.

There is no true comfort or healing that I can give, but I can tell you of his and what he did for me. I care, and I am here for you. I will pray for you because I know God desires to heal your heart and carry you. Ask, and he will meet you.

Love, Your Friend,


“Surely he took up our pain and bore our suffering, yet we considered him punished by God, stricken by him, and afflicted. But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed. We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to our own way; and the LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all.” 

~ Isaiah 53:4-6 (NIV) ~

Psalm 23

The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures.
He leads me beside still waters.
He restores my soul.
He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil, for you are with me;
Your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;
You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life,
And I shall dwell in the house of the LORD forever. (ESV)

My Prayer of Psalm 13 – In my own words

Each week we have a Psalm assignment in SBS. Here is last week's.

My Prayer of Psalm 13 – In my own words

“How long, O Lord?” How long, will I struggle so, to see truth but through a fog that is too heavy to cut and too far to reach?

How long will I feel too much and have the plight of purposelessness permeate my being?

How long will lies saturate my soul?

Will you listen and answer? I’m not asking for removal from struggle but joy in suffering.

I’m asking for understanding of purpose, for renewal to continue, for fog to lift and Truth to Light –
“To light up my eyes” so that lies fall flat against impenetrable armor. Those already defeated cannot claim victory.

Your love is unfailing and never ceasing. It never tires not fades.

I remember your promises in the night and the day that you graciously saved me to dance in your presence. I am undeserving, but your gift is for me.

Monday, January 10, 2011

The Plight of the Cinder-Ash Girl

As part of our assignment for Psalms in the School of Biblical Studies I have a creative assignment each week, and this week's assignment was to write a poem in the same type as one of Psalms 1-10. I want to explain my poem below because it is written by the heart of me but not about me. This is the plight of one of the oppressed that God is pursuing and desperately loving, the heart of the sex-trafficked, little girl. The prince is Satan. So this poem is a combination of my influences today: Psalm 10, Revelation, and a dream I had when I slept. I can’t remember all of my dream, nor was it about sex-trafficking, but there was a little girl who needed help. So in my processing-the dream and processing the Psalm assignment and thinking about what to write, out this came. (1/10/11 SM)

A Heart no longer encased by a shield, vainly attempted to block bloodthirsty blows.
Thought to be crushed,
Physical bones, dutiful, responded as if feeling
Only feeling was no more emotion but instinct--
Warring, was it possible, with a sliver of spirit?
The question defied reality: survival was death or death was survival?

Vultures circled overhead
Ravaging their prey.
The talons of sharper weapons of destruction had already feasted.
Ownership claimed but not their claims to own.
The goal-satisfaction. The finality-hunger never quenched.
The victor-deception. The truth-to be reckoned.

The clock struck mid-night.
The fair maiden’s frock-beyond stained and torn.
All claims laid threadbare
As the prince was found out for his evil lair.
Piles of clean-picked bones displayed as his sculptures of pleasure.
Piles of snuffed-out souls-discarded as worthless to a dirty corner.

This tale is grim, for no fairy tales are here.
This is Life, and this is Death. But one with an Answer.
The prince got his picking of fury’s fair fight.
Rather his bones stoked the eternal fire.

And what is the plight of her strangled soul?
Beyond recognition of this earth’s ear came the faint pulse-the cry
Of this Cinderella.
To his ear it came – the Rescuer. So he wailed, broken, at the plight of his Daughter.

You see, the Cinder Maiden was never far off from the heart of her Father.
He was seeking and searching-calling to the Princess her name
As he waited for the day he would hear in response the truth of his name.

Lifeless and brittle, he found her in the pile of bones.
And not finding her soul, he restored to her life anew-whole.
Replacing her rags for clothes fit for a queen,
He fashioned her crown and said,
“I loved you in the destruction of the cinder ash.
I love you in new life that my death has bought.”
And they entered the chamber of the throne of Light, hands together,
Because of the love of one rescuer Father for the heart of his cinder ash Daughter.