Six Months: Part II

 "As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you O God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When can I go and meet with God? My tears have been my food day and night [...] These things I remember as I pour out my soul; how I used to go with the multitude leading the procession to the house of God, with shouts of joy and thanksgiving among the festive throng. Why are you downcast, O my soul? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my savior and my God. My soul is downcast within me; therefore I will remember you [...] Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls; all your waves and breakers have swept over me. By day the Lord directs his love, at night his song is with me, a prayer to the God of my life. I say to God my Rock, 'why have you forgotten me? Why must I go about mourning, oppressed by the enemy? 'My bones suffer mortal agony as my foes taunt me, saying to me all day long, 'where is your God' 'Why are you downcast my soul? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my savior and my God." Psalm 42

Six months ago on Sunday morning, February 25 I read this passage with the busyness of getting a family of six ready and off to church set before me and my little Abigail resting her head on my lap while I sat drinking my coffee. She even snuck a sip. This past Sunday, exactly six months later, I read the same passage while I rested upon her grave in the stillness of the early dawn hours. Never before has my perspective shifted so sharply within a span of six months. 

As I sat in that cemetery Sunday morning I couldn't decide what passage to read. My Bible lay open in front of me and I didn't know where to go. After looking at prior journal entries I decided to read exactly what I had read the morning our lives were forever changed. When I started re-reading Psalms 42-45 I knew it was the Lord's tenderness that led me there six months ago knowing six months later these passages would be exactly what I needed as I wept upon my child's grave. 

I've never been more thirsty for the Living Water. I showed up at my child's resurrection site desperately needing to meet with the God who now holds her. "When can I go meet with God?" I've never been more eager to meet him face to face. (verses 1-2)

Day and night I feast upon my tears as I pour out my soul to him. (verses 3-4)

I know all my hope rests in him, and I know I will yet praise him. There is so much praise still yet to come. Even still, my soul is downcast in the here and now. So what shall I do? I will look up. I will not forget the One who holds even the darkest of nights. (verses 5-6)

Oh, the depths of grief! Loud, powerful, and brutal like the strength of water pouring from a cliff. The rushing, roaring waters washed me over the edge. The powerful pounding of the waters pushed me deeper still. I panted for a stream, yet here I am plunged to the depths of a dark grief pool. Yesterday I read Ezekiel 43:2-3, "His voice was like the roar of rushing waters, and the land was radiant with his glory [...] I fell face down [...]Then the spirit lifted me up[...]". This seemed such a contrast to me. His waterfall. His waves. His breakers. If they are his, then he is here. He plunges the depths with me and for me. Day or night, gentle stream or roaring falls, he is here loving me. Singing over me. From the brightest dawn, to the darkest night he is here. (verses 7-8)

In the tempting darkness of sorrow it does indeed feel as the enemy is looking for the tiniest hint of vulnerability to take advantage: eager to pounce when I'm most exposed. My foot seems caught in the weeds of his slimy grip keeping my head pulled beneath the waves. Death is his. Yet, there's a stronger hand plunging into these depths that will result in the ultimate rescue. Despite any questions or doubts on my part I know my God sees. My inability to see him in every moment does not impair his ability to see me. It does indeed feel like "mortal agony"- this business of grieving the loss of my child's presence. Yes, I imagine the enemy taunting me and my family, "where is your God now?!" But his words are empty, powerless because my Savior's grave is empty and powerful. My God is Jehovah Shammah- the Lord who is there. So I will praise him even if "all that I have is a Hallelujah" (Brandon Lake, Gratitude). He has not forgotten me, my family, nor my Abigail. To entertain otherwise is a lie from the enemy. (verse 9-11). 

This is the truth of his voice I need washing over me like the rush of roaring waters. This is the truth in which I will gladly drown. One day I will see the full radiance of his glory -even here upon the ground where a much too small casket lies.