I Will Arise

(C. Rossetti)

Weary and weak, - accept my weariness;
Weary and weak and downcast in my soul,
With hope growing less and less,
And with the goal
Distant and dim, - accept my sore distress.
I thought to reach the goal so long ago,
At outset of the race I dreamed of rest,
Not knowing what now I know
Of breathless haste,
Of long-drawn straining effort across the waste.

One only thing I knew, Thy love of me;
One only thing I know, Thy sacred same
Love of me full and free,
A craving flame
Of selfless love of me which burns in Thee.
How can I think of thee, and yet grow chill;
Of Thee, and yet grow cold and nigh to death?
Re-energize my will,
Rebuild my faith;
I will arise and run, Thou giving me breath.

I will arise, repenting and in pain;
I will arise, and smite upon my breast
And turn to Thee again;
Thou choosest best,
Lead me along the road Thou makest plain.
Lead me a little way, and carry me
A little way, and listen to my sighs,
And store my tears with Thee,
And deign replies
To feeble prayers; - O Lord, I will arise.

Father, I will call it sweet - this hurt - because You give it. I will not run away, though my heart is weak and I am weary. I will seek You. I am tired of myself - tired of my dim and shallow heart that cannot see anything but its own - but I will trust. How can it be that I am Yours and yet I have so little love? Can I have followed you this far and yet be so lost and empty? I am dried and broken shards. The wilderness frightens me and pens me in.There is no grace in me, no love, no fullness, and no fire. Restorer, come and make me more than this. Draw me from this choking dust, and speak your words to me. Speak to me and make me remember who You are - the greatness and the deepness and the beauty of You, and the honour of Your name, and the fullness that belongs to You and Yours. Open my eyes and my heart to see You. Sweeten this bitterness in my soul.

Is there something I have withheld from You? Is there yet a part of me that holds back? Take it to the last piece, Father. I am weary and full of wondering, but I will not say no to You who gave all. Can You have a purpose for this empty aching and this aimless trek? Yet You must. Can You, who demand my best, give less than Your best to me? Having given Your Son, can You deny me any Good? It is unthinkable. I will seek Your heart - You who stretched forth the heavens and who laid your tired head upon a stone. Speak to me, and I, too, will rise.

Weak, Like Me

Arrogance is weakness, too,
And hardness, self-love, lack of care;
And I, who like to pity my own broken self
Might spare a pang or two
For you, who, drifting from the Source of love and grace,
Are weak and lost in self and helpless,
Just like me.

God, widen me!
Stretch out my narrow mind and hardened heart and dimming sight,
And give me pity for the vengeful weak
Who swing with ineffective rage their sharpened swords
And recoiling, cut themselves with their own hurt.

Remove the stones that I have laid, with tender care for silken self,
Around my heart,
And let me feel the cut of words, the sting of hate;
Then heal me with Your love, and let me sing
A song of patient suffering
And pity for the weak like me;

Teach me to reach out gently to their hurt
With Your own heart
And feel the cut, but love despite
And, pitying, grow strong.

Your Unfailing Love

Know in thy heart that, as a man chasteneth his son, so Jehovah thy God chasteneth thee. (Deuteronomy 8:5)

Surely your goodness and unfailing love will pursue me all the days of my life... (Psalm 23:6)

If We Believe Not

"...Each day brought its register of sin and failure, of lack of power...Then came the question - Is there no rescue? Must it be thus to the end - constant conflict and instead of victory too often defeat? How, too, could I preach with sincerity that to those who receive Jesus, to them gave he the power to become the sons of God (ie Godlike) when it was not so in my own experience?...I hated myself. I hated my sin; and yet, I gained no strength against it. I felt I was a child of God: His Spirit in my heart would cry: 'Abba Father'; but to rise to my privileges as a child, I was utterly powerless.
All the time I felt assured there was in Christ all I needed, but the practical question was how was I to get it out?... I knew full well that there was in the Root abundant fatness; but how to get it into my puny little branch was the question. As the light gradually dawned on me, I saw that faith was the only prerequisite, was the hand to lay hold on His fullness and make it my own. But I had not this faith! I strove for it but it would not come; tried to exercise it, but in vain. Seeing more and more the wondrous supply laid up in Jesus, the fullness of our precious Saviour - my helplessness and guilt seemed to increase...
'If we believe not, He abides faithful.' ...He had said, 'I will never leave you.'" (Hudson Taylor)

But unto you that fear my name shall the Sun of righteousness arise with healing in his wings; and you shall go forth, and grow up like calves of the stall. (Malachi 4:2)

This is what I need. I have no faith. I have no perspective. But I will look to Jesus, who is Faithful and True, and cannot leave me. He will arise with healing in His wings.

A Bruised Reed Shall He Not Break

I will accept thy will to do and be,
Thy hatred and intolerance of sin,
Thy will at least to love, that burns within
And thirsteth after Me:
So will I render fruitful, blessing still,
The germs and small beginnings in thy heart,
Because thy will cleaves to the better part.—
Alas, I cannot will.
Dost not thou will, poor soul? Yet I receive
The inner unseen longings of the soul,
I guide them turning towards Me; I control
And charm hearts till they grieve:
If thou desire, it yet shall come to pass,
Though thou but wish indeed to choose My love;
For I have power in earth and heaven above.—
I cannot wish, alas!
What, neither choose nor wish to choose? and yet
I still must strive to win thee and constrain:
For thee I hung upon the cross in pain,
How then can I forget?
If thou as yet dost neither love, nor hate,
Nor choose, nor wish,—resign thyself, be still
Till I infuse love, hatred, longing, will.—
I do not deprecate.

Christina Georgina Rossetti

Locked In and Left

Life has just eaten me up today. It opened wide its jaws and chewed me up and swallowed me down-down-down, and I am in pieces and unreasonable and I find no thought that gives me rest or comfort. There is neither love nor logic in me. I am tears and hardness, nothing more.

Why can I not touch God? Why is his face hidden from me? Who will save me? Who will keep me from the great stinking hate that rises up from my hurt and stifles all in me that would please God?

Jesus who died, come and rescue me from myself. Come and speak - just speak - into this darkness and haze. I need Your word more than I need anything else. I am disappointed in the great weakness I find in myself, and I am confused. Why do You leave me to rot in this mess of mine? My thoughts are twisted and tangled. Show me my wrong. Draw me out from it.

Moses, drifting down the Nile in a pitch-covered basket, before being claimed by the pharoah's daughter.
Jonah, cut off and miserable in the belly of the fish, before preaching the message of his life.
David, sleeping in a dim cave and running scared, before God made him king.
Peter, thrown into the prison, before the angel came and led him out through open doors.
Jesus, alone in a cold, black tomb, before rising in triumph over death.
Locked in and left in the cramped dark, each one. Drawn out, each one.

Yes, there have been such days before, and many things I have not understood. Nor do I yet understand.

But I am Yours, Lord Jesus.

Courage in Waiting

Teach me your way, O Lord, and lead me in a level path, because of my enemies.
Deliver me not over unto the will of my enemies: for false witnesses are risen up against me, and such as breathe out cruelty.
I would have fainted, unless I had believed to see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.
Wait on the Lord: be of good courage, and he shall strengthen your heart: wait, I say, on the Lord. (Psalm 27:11-14)

I always thought courage meant having a strong heart, but this says that we should "be of good courage, and he shall strengthen" our hearts. So perhaps courage is the waiting? Just sitting ourselves down and waiting when we don't know how long it will be and we don't have the heart for it anymore?

Am I Jacob - unwilling or unable to trust in God's heart toward me and accept His goodness, unless He wrestles me to the ground? Why do I find myself asking so often, when all that He gives is Good?

O Father, I am so tired of waiting. I am so tired of being weak, weary, dependent. The enemy breathes out cruelty and I am heart-hurt. Yes, again. 

You are Good. You give Good. Even when it doesn't feel that way, I will hold tight to the truth of who You are. I will have the Good that You have promised. You can give no less. I can't see You. I don't always feel how You love me. But You know my heart. All the way down, beneath it all, I believe in Your goodness, in Your love. I am waiting for You, even when I don't want to, when I don't feel like it, when I feel impatient and tired and too-weak and too-unworthy. You are beautiful. You are kind. You see me. You have not forgotten. I will let You choose how to give me Good, and You will give me nothing less than Your very best.

Thank you for this hurt. Thank you for breaking me down and exposing my weakness and backing me into dark corners. Thank you for taking me apart, piece by piece. I trust You to put me together again. This, too, is Your gift. Give me the grace to reach out my hands to accept all that You have for me. Let me see Jesus, and teach me to feel that He is worth any cost. Let me know You. Let me bring honour to You in the cold and the dark. Light my way with Your Love. Make me more than I am.  You know how tired I am, but I will wait for You because I believe Your Word. I believe You.

As Birds Flying

Woe to them that go down to Egypt for help; and rely on horses, and trust in chariots, because they are many; and in horsemen, because they are very strong; but they look not unto the Holy One of Israel, neither seek the Lord!
As birds flying, so will the Lord of hosts defend Jerusalem; defending, he will also deliver it; and passing over, he will preserve it.
(Isaiah 31:1,5)

For the Lord is our judge, the Lord is our lawgiver, the Lord is our king; he will save us. (Isaiah 33:22)

 I will put my trust in Him, my defender and my God. He may not do what I wish. He may let me hurt. But I will have His way, and his heart. I will go with His hand in mine, whether to hurt or to healing.

The Apple of His Eye

He found him in a desert land
And in the wasteland, a howling wilderness;
He encircled him,
He instructed him,
He kept him as the apple of His eye.” (Deuteronomy 32:10)

He shall see of the travail of his soul, and shall be satisfied: by his knowledge shall my righteous servant justify many; for he shall bear their iniquities. (Isaiah 53:11)

...Jesus the author and finisher of our faith; who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame... (Hebrews 12:2)

I am the joy that was set before Him. I am His prize. With all my flaws and my stumblings and my unloveliness, He loves me and wants my love in return. When I feel like I'm running in place and my life is a big empty hole and I am nothing but a collection of failures and dashed hopes, He is pleased by me.

He knows my deep heart, with all its desires and disappointments, and he understands my hurts and my hardness. He waits for me to learn, and he takes pleasure in my victories. He will make me into more than just a child to be cared for; He will build me into someone He can trust. How I long for the day when he sees of the travail of his soul, and is satisfied!

Jesus, You deserve better than I have given. Since You have so loved this heart and this life, let me give it all to You. Make me the kind of prize that You deserve.

And He is jealous for me: Loves like a hurricane; I am a tree,
Bending beneath the weight of His wind and mercy:
When all of a sudden I am aware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory
And I realize how beautiful You are, and how great Your affections are for me.
Oh, how He loves us, Oh how He loves us so.
He is our portion and we are His prize;
Drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes... (from How He Loves, by John Mark McMillan)

He Loves

Father, here I am again. Afraid, again. Afraid that You aren't the One I thought You were; afraid that the Good you give is less than the Good I can imagine; afraid that I am just too not-enough to expect You to make my life into something. I am bringing this fear to You because underneath, I know it is a lie. I know that You cannot be less that the God who suffered, that You cannot give less than the greatest Good, that You had a plan when You made me, and that I am precious to You. 

Break me down, if you will, but build me back up again. Use this fear and this weakness for something. Bring out of this roiling confusion a light and a song that will echo your praise far beyond my life and my paltry dreams. All that I have comes from You and all that I am belongs to You. I confess my wrong - my twisted thinking and lack of faith - before You. Father, I lack the power to change myself: change me. I wait for You. Order my thoughts and straighten my way. Let me see spiritual truth. Remove from me this deep self-hatred that raises itself against You, despising what You have made and whispering - always whispering - cruel, unceasing criticism of the me that You love. Remind me who You are.

Trusting

O God, in this dark, I can't see. But I know You can.

I am tired of controlling my emotions, strung too tight; I'm tired of willing myself still when I want to run away, throw a tantrum, bite and kick and scream; I'm tired of saying nothing when my heart is full of words. I believe that You are able to fill up my whole heart with Your love. You are able to make me what I long to be. You are able to set me free from myself, from my narrow perspective and my self-centredness and my stumbling. I know that You are giving me Good, even here, even now. I trust You.

What are You teaching me? Where are You taking me? I am too weak for this journey, but change me and make me able, Father. Set me free to love as You love, always willing to be hurt again, always giving and seeking and giving again, even when nothing comes back to You. Fill me with love from the Source, so that I can keep giving when I do not receive in return. Teach me to give away what is precious, not from the overflow, but out of what I want most. Put love in my heart, Father. There is no love in me. Have mercy on my smallness and my weakness, God. Read my deep heart - You know me to the depths.

When I am emptied from giving all I've got, and when everything I have and am is still not enough, then come to me and fill up all my empty places and my stricken heart, and hold my hand, and teach me how I am Yours, and remind me how Your love always finds me, Father.