This is a repost of an old post.
“Then they cried out to the Lord in their trouble, and He saved them out of their distresses. He brought them out of darkness and the shadow of death, and broke their chains in pieces.” (Psalm 107:13-14)
It is a quiet whisper that I hear, feel it stir inside of my soul that day. Three small words, yet they take up a mighty big space in my weary soul, and I hold my breath, not willing to give in. Not willing to give the last bits of myself that I am only barely holding on to even now. Not willing to be broken down, completely wrecked by these three words that would mean just that: letting go of trying to make it perfectly every single time, letting go of knowing what will happen, letting go of these walls I build around my heart and my soul to keep me safe.
These three words — easy to gloss over and forget, easy to say, easy to ignore. And yet, these three words? Contain that mountain tumbling down that is my soul, that storm wind blowing over and ripping these pieces apart because never would I willingly risk my vulnerability in such a transparent act of that trembling faith that is mine. These three words, gently echoing in my soul and leaving me bare, wrecking my strength and my pride:
“Just be brave.”
“Lord, help!” they cried in their trouble, and he saved them from their distress. He calmed the storm to a whisper and stilled the waves.” (Psalm 107:28-29 NLT)
And that is the thing, about being brave — when our hearts are left a complete wreckage, when there is nothing left to give in our wearied souls and we push to even face the day. Because when we come to God with our hands empty and hearts in pieces? When we come to God, knowing that we have absolutely nothing to bring Him but this wretched soul of ours and our broken cries?
That is the holy ground God walks upon, this land of our hearts.
And I imagine it is like rebuilding the walls of Jerusalem, those walls tested by time and ready to crumble down and our soul, its fractured edges and dark corners — and yet we find, in brokenness we come alive. And we build, brick by brick, a sword in hand and our eyes lifted upwards to the sure grace of our Lord and our trust becomes transparent with every inhale as we let His gracious glory weave love into our souls. Because this we know, that only after darkness comes the dawn and with every morning there is a new chance and in every moment, a new beginning.
“Those who are wise will take all this to heart; they will see in our history the faithful love of the Lord.” (Psalm 107:43 NLT)
I am only starting to learn what it means to be brave in the midst of this mess that is called life — how to share from this trampled soul of mine; how to touch gentle with His redeeming love; how to pour out the overflowing grace and pour into that darkened place of a broken heart. And I still have no idea how to be brave when I barely manage to breathe in the midst of my raging fears and doubt, how to be used when all I have is nothing.
But I know this: that though I am not, I know the I AM. I know the One who has set us free. And maybe we truly are building the walls of Jerusalem here — brick by brick, side by side and all the while, His brilliant grace will show us the way.