long to hurt more.
they sear and want to sear deeper.
they long to cry out into the darkness:
is anyone there?
long for comfort.
they seek it in food and drink, listlessness and frenzy, silent tears and screams of pain.
We all have our ways.
One hurting heart,
while hurting for us all,
while abandoned and without hope,
while crying out in the agony of torture,
can we, too?
Can we, too?
what is it, to let go
of the pain
of the anger
of the frustration?
of the hate.
of the disappointment – the expectations that have never been met, the hopes we all had that have been painfully smashed and destroyed and then smeared in our faces – if we look?
what is it, to abandon
the hope of wholeness,
our faith in healing,
the simple, beautiful fantasy of relationships – family! – uncomplicated by sin and brokenness and history and words said and words unsaid and things done and things left undone.
what is it, to forgive?
It is to accept the injustice.
It is to let go of self-righteousness.
It is to be humble in the presence of things that cannot be understood.
It is to know that your heart will suffocate itself otherwise – and to want, and decide, to live.
It is to swallow the lump in your throat, to tighten your stomach muscles as they threaten to send your lunch back onto your plate, to clench your fingernails into your palms until they draw blood – and then dig deeper.
It is to say: God, glorify your name.
so then what?
hours and miles tick and click by and then its been months and years
and you find that your heart
that a miracle
is occurring – has occurred –
and started, probably, sometime after you gave up, stopped
forgiving isn’t forgetting.
but it’s moving on.
This is the letting go.
it’s changed you –
the hate, the searing pain, the bitterness and unfairness and terror of it all, etched into your memory and emblazoned on your heart.
but you’re bigger than it, right?
you are more than that part of your story.
and so is He.
so is He.
God, glorify your name.