Hurt

Dark shadows lie beneath my eyes, but my heart is too heavy to allow rest to chase them away.

I used to believe that burdens were meant to be shared with another fellow soul. I believed that honesty is the best policy, that there was power in declaration, that confession was good for the soul. I found that the process of talking things over or airing your feelings and thoughts were aided in restoring tranquility.

Has that changed.

There are some wounds that just cannot be talked about, some sorrows that cannot be formed and shaped by words.

It came at the most unexpected time, from the most unexpected source, which only adds to the misery. After a month of prayer and fasting, a heightened commitment to seeking His Face, of expecting breakthroughs, denying myself and choosing the narrow path…

A piercing of the heart all the way down to its soul. In quick succession on Friday, Sunday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday again, blow after blow was delivered on raw, quivering flesh.

It felt like a slap on the face from God. Why make it so hard to do what is right? Is this supposed to be a test on how far I would submit to Your Ways? Hung between defeat and destruction, I see no victory or salvation.

This is part of the molding, breaking and testing process.

Carry your cross in private, bear your pain in silence.

Since Friday, the tearing ache has dulled into a grey grief. I pray for the gangrene of apathy to kill of that part of my heart.


Tonight I will not weep.