I’ll be honest with you.
tonight is one of those nights where I’m coming to my keyboard for my own healing. where I’m just hitting the keys and letting all the things stopping up my heart flow free because I can’t choke them back anymore. where I’m coming unfiltered, simply as I am, shaking under mercy. where I’m working out the kinks and tangles of a tossed-up heart.
I’ve been kind of a wreck today. it seems that in almost every area of my life there is strain. there is a push-back. there is tension. there is woundedness uncared for and an insensitive rubbing of the deepest parts of me. again and again over these past few weeks I’ve been forced to lean into the pain, lean into the theatrics, lean into the very real instances where I have come with hands open and left still empty.
so are the times.
my body is breaking down, getting ill yet again from the exhaustion of both physical and emotional stamina that’s been strained and drawn out. and tonight all I’ve wanted, all I’ve been capable of, has been sitting on the sofa with a blank stare. it’s a theme, you know… getting to the end of myself.
and so here I am, just as I am- seeking truth in the spilled-out thoughts, flipping slowly and painfully through my dearest copy of Scripture, opening up the journal I kept this spring when newness and freedom seemed so possible.
but it doesn’t anymore, and I feel empty and angry and sad. and no matter where I go, coast to coast my heart feels like an outcast under steeples and in good company. and I don’t understand why Divine Love keeps leading me here, sick-to-my-stomach disturbed and lonely.
and this is what I find written in my own handwriting…
“you know you’re on holy ground when you don’t understand.”
and this is why, I know. this is why I keep getting lead back here to the misunderstanding, to the unknown. because here is where I find the holy ground of settling in. here is where it takes patience. here is where I pour out my heart like water in the presence of the Lord (Lamentations 2:19). here is where mercy lives. here is where I get to wrestle with God and see Jesus and lean into the tension of an underfed soul.
because you know you’re on holy ground when you don’t understand.
and here’s the time when I bring the betrayal and the anger and the heart-sickness and I put it down and sit with it and with Divine Love with no exit strategy. no plan if this all goes terribly wrong and my heart gets smashed raw from the ache. no “just in case”. no “what if”. no double-checking.
just sitting. just being. just the tears and the Presence of the Most High. just the anger and the One who brings justice. just the betrayal and the Healer. just the loneliness of a prophetess and the Divine-Human Word.
just the interaction of Divine Love with all the mess and wounds and brokenness of my heart, as I watch from the side.
just the leaning in. just the surviving of these agonizing moments of Presence. because being present always costs us comfort, and always ends in peace.
keep leaning in. keep surviving the Presence. no exit strategy.
so I’m just going to leave this here: if your heart is so heavy you can scarcely take it anymore, if your soul feels fit to burst and you just don’t understand… bring the horror and invite it to the floor with you and Jesus. sit together, all of you, and just be.
lean in. lean hard. shut up for a minute. then scream. survive these moments of Presence however you must, but do not leave them.
do not come with an exit strategy.