arise, o church. a response and a call for the hearts of our youth.

i’ve thought about it, too, now that you mention it.

not so much now, but i did.

back when healing felt like hot coals inside my gut, and the sunlight singed my parchment-thin heart.

back when there was that one time when my medicines, they just stopped working.

“Put me in the hospital,” i begged my counselor.

but i stayed home.

stayed a mess.

stayed alive.

eventually, the fine titration of years of therapy and therapists helped, combined with medicines as essential to the care and feeding of my brain as insulin is to a brittle diabetic.

i remember the strangling weight of depression and anxiety, curling around my inmost being, whispering–no screaming–inside my head that all the world, my family, my friends would be better without me.

but here i am.

alive.

*****

they, on the other hand, are not.

*****

two Matthews–their very names meaning “gift of God”– in two weeks. 

gone by their own hands.

the strangling weight of grief chokes two sets of families, two communities of friends.

one is in the national spotlight.

one happened in a nearby community.

and the whole world groans for answers.

of which there are none.

except, perhaps, one.

one answer, and though it is not nor ever will be enough, it is this:

arise, o church.

arise.

arise and take note of the vicious tearing of the veil separating the seen from the unseen.

take note of the evil powers and principalities punching through and groping for our youth, a precious, toe-headed generation of believers who will be (and are, even now) called upon to raise swords–the weight of which the world has never known–to fight for their lives and their faith.

two Matthews are gone from this earth, but make no mistake: their deaths are NOT a score for the grave.

indeed, the victory is Christ’s, Who overcame it.

Who can overcome even yours.

i painted this picture (below) when i was in one of the darkest times of my life. when cords entwined. when death crouched on the corner of my bed at night and counted my breaths as i gasped through living and imagined nightmares. when i stood too near to the gaping window, soothing currents of death caressing me, taunting me, singing in minor key over my deflated soul.

but then, He reached down and took hold.

He reached down and took hold of those boys, too, you know.

why i live to tell about it, and not them, i do not know.

but i do know this: for those of us lucky enough to have been drawn out of deep waters and have breath yet to speak of it, it is time for us to arise.

time for us to raise banners for hope.

time for us to shed our shame and shameful notions of mental health and

admit

that though we scramble to look perfect, life hurts.

admit

that for many of us, the grave never ceases to beckon, no matter how many worship songs we sing, no matter how many Bible studies we accomplish, no matter how many times we go back and forth between the baptizing waters of redemption.

we who live must admit this.

and testify.

that our brokenness is NOT for a lack of faith.

brokenness is the Siamese twin of this earthly life.

and still . . .

. . . still, He reaches down.

because we are meant to live.

*****

arise, o church.

*****

call upon angel armies to bind up the hearts of our youth, whose lives are under an all-out siege.

call upon angel battalions to seal the tears in the unseen veil.

to protect this next generation.

to have mercy upon them.

that they may live.

*****

most of all, we pray, o Lord, please cover the hearts of these hurting families with Your unfailing and healing love. seal the mouths of those who would hurt them in the midst of their unbearable pain. protect them and hold them close. and assure them of the truths of Romans 8:35-39.

*****

amen.

*****

IMG_0036 2

*****

I’m absolutely convinced that nothing—nothing living or dead, angelic or demonic, today or tomorrow, high or low, thinkable or unthinkable—absolutely nothing can get between us and God’s love because of the way that Jesus our Master has embraced us.

Romans 8:38-39 TMV

*****

Do you or someone you love struggle with thoughts of suicide?

Seek help today.

Do not be ashamed.

And most of all, do not delay.

Logo

variations on a broken heart examined

puzzling.

i don’t know why i never
stopped believing
why the knife-edged pain did not slice
through my tethered desperation
for
Jesus.

by all accounts, darkness should have
won.
some days, if i’m honest,
it wins small battles.

the twin armies of hate and unforgiveness pelt
my pretty little
safe little
bunker
with grenades.
arrows of fear shower me with
metallic
clouds of confusion.

serene and calm
i am not.

the ugly that is in me shines bright as a
blood red flare signaling
the enemy to advance.

i do not pretend this is not so.

but like a drought stays for a season and
is followed by quenching
rain
i kept after Him.

no.

wait.

that’s not it.

*****

He kept after me.

*****

after one of the most devastating droughts in Indiana history, these growing things still remain in my garden.
and i am grateful that they still chase the sun.
or
rather
that the sun still chases them.

“But blessed is the man who trusts me, God,
the woman who sticks with God.
They’re like trees replanted in Eden,
putting down roots near the rivers—
Never a worry through the hottest of summers,
never dropping a leaf,
Serene and calm through droughts,
bearing fresh fruit every season.

“The heart is hopelessly dark and deceitful,
a puzzle that no one can figure out.
But I, God, search the heart
and examine the mind.
I get to the heart of the human.
I get to the root of things.
I treat them as they really are,
not as they pretend to be.”

~Jeremiah 17:7-9 (TMV)~

*****

What about you?

What remains in your garden at the end of a drought?

How have you–or have you not–kept the faith in the midst of brokenness?