I am writing this because I don’t know what else to do. Life for me has been stages of smog-skied grief, grief with windows of shade in the middle of these epochs. Shade like the looming foliage that drooped over Jonah as he mourned, which was quickly consumed. If it were weather it would be forecast as stormy, cloudy with a chance of light sun. The sun is brilliant and radiant but when you’re familiar with smog, it’s also a covering; it is shade, in the sense that it provides relief from the mundane, from what causes grief. Dimness and shadow isn’t always shade; sometimes it beats down on you like an abusive desert star, blazing without relent. You break out in sweats that even water cannot quench–black heat that is inextinguishable. Grief has been my cruel sun. Hope has been my bright shade.
The beauty of God is that he always shines; he is always faithful, even when his rays appear blotted out by sin, worry, fear or even death. In this epoch of faith, I’ve come to realize that Christ calls us up into the heavenly realm with and in Him through the indwelling of the Spirit. As fully man and fully God, he transcended the natural order and invites us to be raised with him, not just a ways off but in the here and now. Through prayer, we ascend above the clouds, above any canopy that obstructs our view and we find fellowship with God in his Son. In prayer God descends to us and fills us with light and love, “as in heaven even so on earth.” By prayer the finite sets foot in an infinite stream.
I am at lost of words despite my above musings. Aside from the divine office I’m often at a lost as to what to pray. As I reflect on my dad’s neurological condition, I don’t know what to do. I am not angry at God. I don’t expect him to take it away or make it any less painful for me, him or our family. I have prayed now as I never have prayed before, frequently and more earnestly and God’s presence has been made know in and around me. While I still suffer with anxiety and depression my heart is being wrapped in a stillness that I myself could never produce and haven’t been able to as I walked outside of his grace. Oddly enough, I was in a way driven closer to him through grief, from grief into grief but in it I find peace. Because in my grief I am learning to let go and hold to God. To trust in his will, his way, and his love, in his good news because it is the power of God unto salvation to all of us–from faith to faith (beginning to end) (Romans 1:16-17).
Father, my heart is yours. Please fill it with good things. Direct my steps. Guard my path. Forgive my sins and raise me in the end. May my father go in peace and awaken in your everlasting arms.
Amen.
ה קול (Voice) 