Photo by Adrian Swancar on Unsplash

It’s quiet in the living room as I write. I did not want to leave the last post without a sequel. Every word rings true, and I’m thankful to have written it. I’ve probably written it many times over the years, but then we learn and grieve by repetition. The most catholic is the most personal as I’ve also written many times in my writing career.

I’m not sure if Job wrote Job. Scholars? But lets pretend he did. Job, Jeremiah, Esther’s Mordecai surely journaled, Hosea and countless other individuals have felt what I felt this morning. Amy, Patty and Ruth have too, and I bow in adoration to the One who made the conversation with Amy and Patty possible today. It wasn’t coincidence. It was grace and peace wrapped in flesh, and I’m a better man for it.

My anger and hate is inappropriate so many times, and even though it may be justice I am not God to condemn. If I had to pick two biblical characters who embody the way I feel right now it would be David and Jeremiah. Jeremiah battled depression. I think Jeremiah and Lamentations are rampant with language that depicts a tortured soul who wants out. You see it in Jonah’s story too. I’m trying to see it in Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, but I just don’t. That doesn’t mean it’s not there. Right now it’d be proof texting if I went there. David’s BFF Jonathan no doubt knew about depression as they were forced apart by Jonathan’s dad King Saul. David’s resolute determination not to whack Saul is legendary, and his ability to trust the Spirit to work through God’s anointed is amazing. He did whack the guy who whacked Saul, and that shows you another reason why David was a man after God’s own heart. It seems that those God allowed to go through fire were the most refined of all His followers, and I don’t see that that has changed.

There are moments of tranquility, and the highs can no doubt lift me high even after the lows, but that doesn’t mean I won’t lament when burdens burn. I know it’s not Scripture, but theologian J.K. Rowling through her character Albus Dumbledore puts it so well.

Words are, in my not-so-humble opinion, our most inexhaustible source of magic. Capable of both inflicting injury, and remedying it.

Our longing for peace, honesty and safety can only mean we were made for another world, and this ain’t it. There are traces of it, and shadows of what will be grace us such that my incredible face-to-face with friends today cannot have a price tag. They are priceless, and there’s not enough money in the world to purchase that transaction. Tears may flow, and our longing for those who have passed away are constant reminders we are going to a better place.

We think the grass is greener if, but that if keeps moving, and every if we reach proves to be unsatisfying. Ecclesiastes gets it right. Eat, drink, work, enjoy the fruits of our labor. Repeat. Repeat this mantra tomorrow when your mind deceives you.

I am where I’m supposed to be, and doing exactly what I’m supposed to be doing.

And if that is a lie you have a Father who is powerful enough to get you there. Ask Him. It won’t happen over night, but it will happen.

Life is hard. You will be rejected. You’ll reject yourself, but keep writing. Keep journaling. Keep talking to your Amy. Keep putting one foot in front of the other because movement is never wasted. Clean the bathtub. Make the bed. Do a load of laundry. Wash a load. Dry that same load. Fold the wash cloths, towels, t-shirts, underwear and socks, and put them all away. Do it again and again, and do it again the next day. Walk around the block. Go to a coffee shop and read the Harry Potter series or whatever you read. You will make it. You will feel loved, and you will love. You may be in a losing season, but this too shall pass, and you will win again.

I promise.


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