Broken Prayers From the Edge

I lock the doors.  Close the curtains.  And let God have it.

I clinch my fists in a maddening rage as my hands tremble violently.  Within moments, my fingers ache from the intense, white-knuckle tightness.  And my forearms cramp up.  The blood rushes to my head.  And my eyes burn and burn and burn from the tears.

I speak, then shout — and scream.

My voice becomes raspy as I rant.  And soon, my throat burns.  My heart is aflame with grief and rage, so much so that my ears can no longer understand the words coming out of my mouth.  Before it’s over, I will blow my nose several times and wipe my eyes often and much.

I am broken — and I am praying.

I start with the loss of my friend, JD, a man taken far, far too soon.  A man who left behind a wife and two children.  I tell God that I do not think it is fair for his children to grow up without a father.  And then, I ask God why He didn’t take me instead, that I want to be with my children, that I don’t have any here for me.

“All I do is suffer and I am sick to death of it!!!”

And then, I rant about all the believers — never the broken — who paint a picture of life with Christ as a portrait of perfection.  Their grandiose testimonies have made me feel like God has something against me, like grace is a joke for people like me because my life has been so hard.  My brokenness is not the result of one trial, nor one tragedy — but a lifetime of unbearable loss.

“And it just keeps happening!!!”

I rattle off the names of those I’ve lost in just the past five years:  Jerry, Britany, Virginia, Rob, Terry, Nancy, Leroy, Art, Kim, Greg, Melody — and now JD.  I tell God that I am the anti-Midas.  Everything King Midas touched turned to gold, but I feel like everything I touch turns to dirt.  I am cursed.  “God has raised His fist against me.”

“How am I supposed to go on?  How?”

And then, in that moment, all of my rage and all of my grief and all that I am burns and burns and burns for The Almighty.  I am a man of faith — and, even in the midst of this monstrous mess my life has become, I know that He could end every ounce of this despair with a simple whisper.  A sign.  A something.  Anything.

“If You would just speak, this madness would end!”

With the last tissue, I tell God that I am convinced He wants me to suffer — alone, in this maddening agony.  I tell Him that I have given up on Him, that I cannot take any of this any more.  That I am broken.  And my heart is dead.  My pain is too great, my anguish too deep.  And that I will never serve God again for as long as I live.

“I can’t do it!  I can’t do it!  I just can’t do it!”

Three days later, God spoke to me through a dream.

“In my dream, I had a vision…”

To learn more, read “Safe in the Mouth of Danger.”

 

Love,

The NorEaster

Joy Comes in the Morning

“I will test you
with the measuring line of justice

and the plumb line of righteousness.
Since your refuge is made of lies,

a hailstorm will knock it down.
Since it is made of deception,
a flood will sweep it away.”
                                   ~Isaiah 28:17

The ways in which our Father tests us certainly can seem clandestine to closed eyes.  Most of us familiar with our own trials and tragedies would agree that these excruciating circumstances are spiritual tests.  I know I’ve had my measure of the mire.  I have lost three children — one to an abortion — and I have also lost three precious people to suicide in three years, and several more as well.

There are times I can scarcely comprehend the magnitude of what I have lost.  Some days, it is a hourly struggle to remind myself of the goodness of God in the midst of my oceanic anguish.  I pray constantly for the blessing of relief — even through the maddening rage of my grief — and I have a handful of blog subscriptions (including this one) that help me stay focused.  Many times, the words I read provide the precise encouragement I need.

I have devoured The Book of Job many times, and God’s speech always gets me at the end.  But, recently, I realized that Job’s three friends not only failed Job, they also failed in the eyes of God, who tells Eliphaz, “I am angry with you and your two friends, for you have not spoken accurately about me, as my servant Job has” (Job 42:7).  While the focus of the book is obviously on Job, that verse made me realize something very significant.

When so many bad things happen to just one person, is God testing just one person?  Is The Almighty so short-sighted?  Wasn’t He testing Eliphaz the Temanite, Bildad the Shuhite, and Zophar the Naamathite as well?

Is not the same true for us today?  When we see our brothers and sisters enduring their own fires, isn’t God testing us through them?  Do we understand the magnitude of our Father’s love so very well as to serve Him so gratefully by serving others?  The purpose of loss is not suffering, but to learn compassion for those who are suffering.  In that sense:

Injustice is the measuring line of justice,
and suffering is the plumb line of righteousness.

Such evidence demands a verdict.  For without injustice, we have no need to demand justice.  And without suffering, we have no means to express our faith in gratitude through service.  Through my many trials, the times I have experienced the greatest joy has not been when God has taken away my pain — but when I have ministered to others in pain.

Granted, serving others does not remove my anguish or my struggles, but it has been through my suffering that I have come to understand the suffering of others with profound compassion.

And that brings me a wonderfully excruciating joy.

“Weeping may last through the night,
but joy comes with the morning.”
~Psalm 30:5b

Take the Next Turn for Truth

 “And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.”

John 8:32, King James Version (KJV)

 

This is one of those verses that seems like a cliché.  It has been sanded down and polished to the point where its beginning to lose its outrageousness and distinctiveness.  It still sounds noble though, and we do respect it.  Typically it is one of the first verses we commit to memory.

But what is it saying?  We  look around and see so much ignorance and fear, even among the ‘educated.’  There is the fear of cancer, the fear of misguided children, the fear of sudden poverty, the fear of growing old, and much more.  It seems human beings are attracted to fear like a moth is to a candle.

Ignorance is just as prevalent.  Many see, but few understand.  We make His message very simple, so all can know.  But the backlash is many are miffed by our simple message.  In Mexico, in one of those pathetic camps, I heard the most anointed gospel presentation I have ever heard in all my years in ministry.  A very young American girl stood up in front 80 kids.  She shared using a glove with five colors of the gospel.  I sat and I wept.  The nearness of the Lord was so strong, and the message was so real.

We are often a confused people. The Bible’s favorite metaphor is that we are misguided and misdirected sheep.  Sheep, mind you!  Much of the time our ignorance doesn’t come out of simplicity.  It comes out of complicating ideas and circuitous understanding.  We think we will be able to latch on to meaning and understanding if only we read difficult books, or take that course in philosophy. We are buffeted by the complexities. (But surely then we will grasp the truth!?)

“And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.”  One of the ways we come to recognize truth will be seen in a subsequent freedom.  Only people of the truth have real liberty.  And perhaps that is the best way there is to be a free person.  Bondage to sin is way overrated; ignorance and confusion puts you in terrible servitude to the whims of your sinful desires, and Satan and his kingdom.  But when we comprehend what is truth, it gives us an appetite for even more of His rule in our lives.

Be the Lord of My Past

“Lord of the Past,” Lyrics by Bob Bennett

To listen, please check out our Broken Believers Music Index at: https://brokenbelievers.com/classic-christian-music-index/

Every harsh word spoken
Every promise ever broken to me
Total recall of data in the memory
Every tear that has washed my face
Every moment of disgrace that I have known
Every time I’ve ever felt alone

Lord of the here and now
Lord of the come what may
I want to believe somehow
That you can heal these wounds of yesterday
(You can redeem these things so far away)
So now I’m asking you
To do what you want to do
Be the Lord of the Past
(Be the Lord of my Past)
Oh how I want you to
Be the Lord of the Past

All the chances I let slip by
All the dreams that I let die in vain
Afraid of failure and afraid of pain
Every tear that has washed my face
Every moment of disgrace that I have known
Every time I’ve ever felt alone

Well I picked up all these pieces
And I built a strong deception
And I locked myself inside of it
For my own protection
And I sit alone inside myself
And curse my company
For this thing that has kept me alive for so long
Is now killing me.
And as sure as the sin rose this morning,
The man in the moon hides his face tonight.
And I lay myself down on my bed
And I pray this prayer inside my head

Lord of the here and now
Lord of the come what may
I want to believe somehow
That you can heal these wounds of yesterday
So now I’m asking you
To do what you want to do
Be the Lord of my Past
You can do anything
Be the Lord of the Past
I know that you can find a way
To heal every yesterday of my life
Be the Lord of the Past