When I was young, I was scared of my own shadow. (Not 100% sure I've outgrown that yet....) I grew up in a church that was heavy on teaching prophecy, and my anxious heart absorbed it all like a terrified little sponge. I am an only daughter, so while my brothers shared a room, I was all alone at night. I would lay in bed, think scary thoughts, (although not all of them were from prophecy; some older girls at 204 taught us second graders "Bloody Mary" 😒), and imagine the source of all the shadows on the wall. We lived near the train tracks, and a late-night train whistle would have me convinced it was the last trumpet, and I was surely being left behind. So I would cry out-- "Mom!!! Dad!!!" over and over and louder and louder until they came running.
My parents were patient, they were concerned, they loved me. But they got tired of my cries. They needed their sleep. They had jobs. They had my brothers to take care of, too. They were human. I was welcome to cry out to them, but they were also well within their rights as parents to tell me to "forget about the sounds and just go to sleep, already!" Our parents are an imperfect picture of our Perfect Father, who INVITES our cries. He doesn't just tolerate them, He invites them. The ideas of the next few days will overlap as we learn to lament according to God's Word, but today we find ourselves at square one--poor in spirit. At the end of our self-centered rope. Our first cry, our first sob, our first scream of regret is the beginning of every lament--right and wrong. According to Psalm 34:6 and 17, both the poor and the righteous cry out. We cry out "help me", "save me", "rescue me", "ANSWER ME". To anyone who will listen. Or to the God who loves us with loyal, stubborn, unwavering, faithful love.

Thanks Alicia!
ReplyDeleteYour words always minister to my heart. Thank you for sharing your gift with others
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