Reading through the Psalms you commonly see the following subheadings: a psalm of David, or a psalm of Asaph,…
I’ll never forget what I once heard one of my professors say:
“A psalm is simply a person’s response to God’s activity in their life.”
That’s why, in the Psalms, we see the full gamut of human emotion – everything from rage and despair to joy and praise. And everything in between. It’s my favorite book in the Bible.
So today, on this May 13th, I offer this psalm…
O Lord, please hear my cry.
I was once told that the loss of a child will change a parent forever. And, having discovered my 19 year old son’s body five years ago today, I am finding that to be quite true.
I’ve read the loss of a child being compared to an amputation. For a man who’s lost an arm feels as though his arm is still there. But it isn’t. And he’s reminded of that fact every single day.
The memory of that hellish moment when I found my son is burnt indelibly into my brain. The memory of what happened in the next few seconds is, at the same time, a blur and crystal clear.
O God, help me; a part of me has never recovered.
You know, Lord, the stubborn darkness with which I wrestle. And having become, myself, suicidal in the summer of 2015, I spent 10 days in the Psychiatric Ward at Covenant Medical Center in Lubbock. (Michelle still has one of my art projects I had made on “craft day.” 🙂) We laugh about it now.) God, I thank you for those physicians and nurses. They were kind and compassionate.
But, O Lord, I still suffer nightmarish, high-definition flashbacks. Unexpected television scenes of hangings have plunged me into immediate madness.
Your word comforts me. And helps restore and renew my mind.
Often, O God, when I walk through Jordan’s bedroom, I quote Jesus’ laser-like, compassionate words to a grieving Martha:
“I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me, even though he dies, yet shall he live.”
I am reminded, Lord, of the lyrics you gave to the song-writer:
“When you’re up against a struggle that shatters all your dreams,
And your hopes have been cruelly crushed by Satan’s manifested schemes,
And you feel the urge within you to submit to earthly fears,
Don’t let the faith you’re standing in seem to disappear,
Praise the Lord, He can work through those who praise Him,
Praise the Lord, for our God inhabits praise,
Praise the Lord, for the chains that seems to bind you
Serve only to remind you that they drop powerless behind you
When you praise Him.”
Lord, I don’t praise you for my pain today. But I do praise you in it.
You know, Lord, I found Jordan in the corner of his bedroom that afternoon.
During months of counseling, you prompted my counselor to suggest I place crosses in that corner. Through that counselor, you – our Wonderful Counselor -lovingly said, “The mighty cross of Christ, even in your worst conceivable pain, will provide for you hope and peace by helping remind you of what is true.”
You are wise, O Lord. For it has been true: those crosses remind me that Jordan’s pain is gone, he’s more alive and joyful than he’s ever been – and that a reunion is coming.
Father, you prompted me to snap this photo (below) last night to post with this note. Before I took the photo i thought to myself, “The light from that lamp is going ruin the photo.” But when I looked at it my heart constricted and leapt. I couldn’t help but imagine the light from the lamp representing the angel you dispatched to Jordan’s bedroom to embrace him and carry him into Paradise. Where he is now safely in your arms.
O Lord, i don’t understand fully how prayer works. But would you please tell my son today how much I love him? And that his mom, sisters and I are making it? Please, O Prince of Peace, fill my family’s minds with your peace today? And would you help us to help others who are hurting to rediscover hope and truth again?
I humbly ask this in the mighty name of Christ, and on the authority of his shed blood. Amen
I love you, Jordan.
I love you all, Nick