We live in the idle world of the everyday, praying for something more, something meaningful for which to live. And when those things don’t come, we always hold onto the hope that someday they will appear. But do they? There is always hope, but sometimes that hope seems so distant and so unlikely.
We find something, someone to cling to. They give us hope in this dark, dreary world, where war is always just around the corner and fear is a part of our daily lives. We listen to announcements about curfews and curses. We spend half our lives in pursuit of a goal that will never satisfy. Until we, like the precious money we so covet, are completely spent. We lose our emotions, our willingness, our courage.
And I still want to get hurt.
Because I was willing to be vulnerable and to trust my hope.
Because I was willing to open the floodgates and invite someone else in.
Because I wanted something more.
I knew deep down inside that the pain and anguish that I would inevitably feel would dissipate to be replaced with strength. Nothing loved is ever lost or perished. I will not allow myself to live in fear of pain. I will not allow myself the luxury of regret.
Because I follow my heart and have nothing to lose and everything to gain.
I give my life away, in the eternal hope that I will gain it back again. But I wait. I always wait. And my life is an endless game of hope and waiting that I sometimes would rather not play. I would rather know what consequences my actions bring in the immediacy of my fear.
To be a hope-bearer is often to be alone. It is a narrow way, the road less traveled, fraught with peril and uncertainty. It is the way that brings people into the light and into your life only fleetingly and with the knowledge that they, too, will pass. My cross is my own to bear, and at times when the pain overtakes me, and a Simeon arrives to shoulder my load, I look in the darkness and wonder where is the God that promised to walk beside me.
When the darkness seems like it will win, the light is always so far away. And yet, I cannot ever lose my hope. Like a sickness or a parasite, it clings to me. I cannot shake it. It is the still small voice that continues to plague me when I would rather close my eyes and let the world slip away. When I want to go home, it can only whisper…
Not yet, my love. Just a bit longer.
But the waiting is interminable and unfathomable.
Not yet, my love. Just a bit longer.
I wish so deeply for some good, something higher, something more than I have seen. Some sort of valor and honor and integrity that this world does not recognize. The Kingdom I have been promised. We place our value in despicable men and acts and wonder why we lack the courage of our convictions. And we wish for the white knight to rescue us from our dungeons and towers of narcissism, ego, and arrogance. Because we are so enslaved to ourselves that we lack the recognition of the pure and the true.
We no longer represent the good things of the world, but the easy, the convenient, and the instantaneously gratifying.
Oh, Lord, how I long for those like the Great Stories of old. The ones who will stand and fight when there seems to be nothing left to fight for. Who will stand against the darkness and defy the evil that stalks this world like a predator in the night. And I watch my friends drift away, like whispers in the mist. And when I stand alone at the chasm of Mount Doom, holding evil in my hands like a twisted remnant of souls lost to the darkness, and cast my lot to the heavens which protect me, and beg for release…
Not yet, my love. Just a bit longer.
And as I stand against the hordes of faceless foes, brandishing the only weapon left to me—my heart. It is broken and cracked, but like a stained glass window formed of shards of splintered glass, the light is all the more beautiful for its brokenness. Because my heart is filled with the love of Christ, I am able to cover a multitude of sins and heal the expanse of brokenness.
I long to be lost. To be taken away to a place where I can raise my hand and smite the darkness with a vigor and a passion-a mighty passion. To give my life to defend what I hold true. To wield steel and sweat and blood against the nameless enemy and die for the cause.
Because my heart is breaking. Little by little pieces fall away, carved out one bit at a time. I am left to defend what little I have left in surrender to my Savior. To bind it in thrall to the Lord I love.
Every day I face the battle of love against those I long to loathe. Those I desire to watch fall into the fires of their own consequences. And I give them my love and care, in the hopes that they will find within themselves the ability to change, to grow, and to turn to the better life. But it seems so hopeless.
Not yet, my love. Just a bit longer.
Sadly outnumbered, and sorely wounded, all I can pray for is strength to face one more day, and the courage to stand.
Given the opportunity, would I fight tooth and nail for the light? Would I give my place in the heavenly realms to those who do not deserve it? Would I run and hide myself in the safety of a life unlived or would I dare to make a difference?
I don’t know where my life leads, but I know now where it does not. I refuse to be bound to anything not worthy of my heart. Do I give my heart to those that I barely know out of the fear of being alone? Or out of the need to feel companions beside me in the midst of my darkness? Perhaps I too easily give my heart away to someone not deserving. But then again, maybe none of us truly is, which levels us all…
I have done this before, and always with the despair of watching it slip away. I count friends and foes across the globe, all within reach of my love, and yet never within reach of my hand.
All of my old self-esteem demons creep out to play havoc with my brain, reminding me that this has always happened, and if it has happened before, of course it will always happen in the future. Because someone out there wants me to believe it deep down. But HIS grace is sufficient. I am worthy to Him. For whatever reason, the Lord will keep me and preserve me.
I’m afraid to wonder what good I am. Because every now and then I catch glimpses of it. I’m afraid to dream, because my dreams seem so incredible with healing and wholeness – and who wants that?I’m afraid to stand in the gap for the world, because the value system has changed and I am left standing for something that no one wants to defend anymore. True love, light in the darkness, and integrity at all costs. These are things that don’t matter to everyone.
I no longer know the answers, but I can certainly ask the questions.
And still He whispers to me…
Not yet, my love. Just a bit longer.
For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. (Ephesians 6:12-13 NIV)
Scriptures taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com.
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The Whispered Life by Katherine Sturm is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.