Psalm 66
For You, O God, have tested us;
You have tried us as silver is tried.
You brought us into the net;
You laid a crushing burden on our backs;
You let men ride over our heads;
we went through fire and through water....
There are places that none of us would choose for ourselves;
yet God chooses them for us at times.
This prayer is from one of those times and those places.
These days are so long and painful. The hours drag. Even the minutes do. I want to quit. I want out. But You’re not going to let me out, are You? And that’s good of You. I believe that. But there’s no end in sight to all of the hardest things. I can’t keep doing this. And You’re just progressively upping the ante. It’s getting harder and more expensive. You’re playing to win big. I want to tell You that You’ve chosen the wrong teammate. But I know You’ve already won – the victory is not dependent on Your “teammates.” I want to tell You that I don’t care to play, that I’ll just pass until it’s game over, but I know that You want me to play with You. You’re not forcing me to play; You’re inviting me to be with You. You don’t force Yourself on us; that’s not how You work. You actually love us and want us to be with You (and who can resist being actually wanted by You?). I want to tell You that it’s too much, that I can’t bear up under this crushing load. But You give strength for what You put on us. But it doesn’t feel that way. It feels crushing. And sometimes You do crush people. You crushed Your Son, and it brought salvation for the world. What will You bring through my crushing? How will You bring salvation and for whom? Will You intervene in answer to my prayers for my people? I hurt. I want to scream or to cry. But I can’t do either. There’s no outlet for the pain. Just the silent imploding inside…and the darkness. You’ve been there too. I know. So You’re not afraid of it, and You’re not going to abandon me to it. You’ve been through it and have come out the other side. And somehow when You walked through all this, You tapped into the joy that was waiting on the other side. I’m afraid of wanting to want joy. I’m afraid of joy. I’m afraid it would break me. Like pouring warm water on a frozen windshield – that I would shatter. But You didn’t. You were going through the absolute worst, and You kept Your eyes on joy, and it helped You endure. Help me open my eyes and look through the darkness toward the light. And in this suffering, give me Yourself.
And at the risk of being trite at the end of a serious post, I'll share this bit of humor from a sign in a local coffee shop restroom. The final line seemed very appropriate on the particular day that I read it. He knows how to provoke a smile even in the dark times.
