I woke up that night, crying, and I knew — I finally connected what I should have noticed days earlier, my strength spread out thin through the week, my heart broken and bruised from the continuous bad dreams and hard nights. It was there, in the brokenness of this messy heart of mine and the confusion woven through the strings of my soul. I waited until the morning, to tell him what I was already so certain of and the words spilled out with more tears, the honest truth carrying notes of shame.
The enemy is warring for my soul.
And I know, we started this by ourselves when we started painting my fears across pages and in words, when my soul was laid bare and all was covered with tears. It was never easy, exposing those dusted corners of a heart and the looming darkness of my fears; and we started something greater, something of purpose and this — it is never the way of the enemy when we find purpose in our pain. So the shame tries to tell us otherwise, to turn us away from the hope that is there, waiting for you to take the step of faith.
“Lord, hear my voice!
Let Your ears be attentive
To the voice of my supplications.” (Psalm 130:2)
Is this not the cry of our heart, in the midst of the desperate search for answers, in the deep darkness and the hopeless nights. It is all we ask, the one thing we plead — Lord, please, would You hear my voice? Will You answer me, Lord? Or are we left alone to find a way out, to trace back all those wrong turns we took, hoping that this time we will make it right? Are there ever answers to these questions rising out of the deep, is there hope for those who are ready to stop searching?
“Still, there is a voice in silent supplication, a voice in our weeping, a voice in that sorrow which cannot find a tongue: that voice the Lord will hear if its cry is meant for his ear.” (Charles Spurgeon)
I know, beloved — I know. This hopeless place, feeling like you are stuck in circumstances that will never change and the hurt you carry is crushing you. This impossible circumstance that keeps stealing your breath, the closed doors feel like walls closing in. I know, dear one — my heart is right there with you, breaking, and the pain echoes in the heartbeats. There are no words, nothing to describe these waves of sorrow storming up in your soul. Nothing else will do; nothing else can satisfy the longing of a soul. Nothing else will be enough — only God.
But I am learning this one thing, that it is better for our prayers to be heard than for them to be answered. We might be left waiting for an answer — for days and months and years now. Bu we find comfort in knowing that the Lord has heard our voice. The Creator of this world, the Maker of ours hearts — He has heard those tired sighs of your soul. The plead in those tears, the silent cries of our hearts, they have all risen up to His ears. The answer will come when it is the right time.