Harps Hung On The Willows

Such a sad looking tree, the willow.  Branches that in a futile attempt spring upward only to give up and arch there way down.  Weeping willows.  Strands of green leaves like a curtain of stringed beads absentmindedly caressing the ground instead of reaching for the heavens.

The People of God, so down, so tired, so numb from the oppression of their captors-- they hang their harps, lyres, their instruments on the branches of the willows.  They decide collective, we will not play our instruments, we will not sing our songs.  In essence, we give up.  There is nothing left inside of us to lift a Praise to God.

Oh God, I have been there before.  Past the point of frustration.  Past the point anger.  Past the point of sadness even.  Just a resignation.  A numbness of soul where I throw my hands up in the air and say, "I give up.   I have tried.  I have prayed.  I have labored.  I have worked.  I have searched.  I have applied Your principles.  I have put on a brave face.  I have mustered passion.  And I get to a point that I have no more to give.  No more to feel.  No more."

That is a beautiful quiet place.  Where I have no more words to say.  And HE gently comes in and speaks to my heart.  HE places the strength in me to sing one more line from a song-- whether the song is "It is well with my Soul" or "Hallelujah"... HIS SPIRIT begins the work of COMFORTING me in my greyest of times.  This is that beautiful place.  The place where I hang up my harp on the branches of the willows-- thinking it is all over for me and HE reminds me, gently, I AM WITH YOU.

Thank you God.  When we feel our lowest.  When our feet slowly sink into the sand at the shore of depression.  When we are at a lost.  There you are.  The God who SEES ME, EL ROI.  The ONE who takes my tears and saves them.  The ONE who restores my soul and gives me a NEW SONG to sing.

Thank you Father.

Created about 1 year ago