from the tomb of despair…

I wish I could open myself up to you more, there is a rock over the tomb of all my buried hurt and pain, and I am standing outside and telling you, “If only you were here when I was going through it, none of this would have happened”. How long have I been bringing this to you, accusing you of letting me get hurt , of watching it all and not taking a step as parts of me slowly died away. I do bring my pain to you, tell you that I need healing, tell you that I know you have the power to do this. That across the veil of death, I know there is resurrection. But, there is always a but.

I don’t see your tears, tears that tell me that you can feel the pain that is tearing me apart.That though you could prevent the pain sometimes your divine wisdom is beyond the grasp of my intellect.

I wish I could do that, cry with you… seep into my grief and experience the consolation that you offer… so that when the tears are shed and the pain abates, I can trust you enough to lead you to the tomb of all the past pains and take away the rock that is barring you from touching the dead parts of me.

Oh, and to do that, roll off that rock; I can’t do it on my own, can I? That heavy rock of years of denial, defences, anger, resistance. How I need to humble myself, let people see through the pretence of strength, let them see the weak, vulnerable self in pain. And ask for help. You do have the power to do that too, roll the rock away in a breath. But this community, this fellowship, you want me to experience that beauty; the joy that connecting with others, sharing our stories and voes bring. But even with them, even with you by my side, all the buried memories, lost dreams, so much of regret which has all started to rot, it’s too much to take in. So when you insist on opening up, I resist with all I have. And yet, you tenderly insist.

The bounded bundle inside is not a pretty sight; so many knots to still untie, so much unwrapping to do. Will I ever get there? Because I’m tired of this whole process. However hard I try, no matter the effort my companions put in, the rock over my dead treasure, it doesn’t budge. I feel like I’m still on the outskirts of the village, going back and forth with you. Maybe, maybe to let you in, I’ve to learn to stop running and sit by your feet? Listen to you more? Just learn to be with you? Maybe then I’ll have the freedom to trust, the familiarity to let you in, into the guarded cells that scare me, hurt me. Yes, I guess that’s what I should do more.

Sit with you amid the clamour of my life, amid the noise of the world, and enter into the stillness of your love, which I so crave. Help me Jesus, I’m so lost and in so much pain.

© mar:ter