After all of the Halloween festivities at Grandmom and Granddad’s house had died down, I sat for a minute to play the piano. And as I flipped through one of their many music books, I came across a song I’d never heard before. It was simple, yet it had that bit of longing to it, as though it was reaching out for resolution, for hope, for peace. And as I played, I could feel my heart connecting to that wordless message.
I had a miscarriage last week. I wasn’t very far along and know that this is a fairly common occurance early on in pregnancies. But just as I had done with Nathan and Stephen, from the second I had found out I was pregnant, I prayed with such joy, such excitement, such hope for this little one. And simultaneously, I began picturing life as a family of five, planning and adjusting to the changes that would bring. But four days later, I started spotting. And when that spotting turned to cramping, I knew. Just like that, my joy turned into mourning.
Of course I prayed that God would work a miracle. But I knew then and still believe that part of our journey as believers is to walk through dark places in order to be light to a hopeless world. So the majority of my prayer centered on God revealing Himself, even in the midst of pain, so that I would have the strength to bring Him glory through it. I longed for that reminder that He was ever present as I walked through this valley. But unlike any other time in my life, I continued feeling empty, dry, numb. I tried remembering back to other times of God’s faithfulness in revealing Himself through my pain, but it just seemed to bounce off of my heart. I was searching for a fresh resolve, a new word of comfort from the One I’m to lean on when the darkness feels like it’s taking over.
And then came Sunday, and with it, a “Night of Worship” at our church. To be honest, the thought of singing great big praise songs with arms outstretched was not at all what my heart wanted to do. My desired worship set was one that I’m not sure even exists, and certainly not what most folks would want to incorporate into a time of worship. But I feel like worship is only sincere when it’s echoing what my heart is currently expressing. So as I thought of the types of songs I could sing with honesty, more of David’s Psalms came to mind. This one in particular:
"How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?
How long must I wrestle with my thoughts
and every day have sorrow in my heart...
...Look on me and answer, O LORD my God.
Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death...
...But I trust in your unfailing love;
my heart rejoices in your salvation.
I will sing to the LORD,
for He has been good to me." (Psalms 13)
Not the kind of words you hear in most popular hymns or choruses.
But I took comfort in knowing that David, a man after God’s own heart, had moments of wandering through a spiritual desert, feeling alone and forsaken. His songs sound more like a pleading for God to reveal Himself in a way that would bring hope to his current place of pain and struggle. And what I think is so magnificent is that even in his confusion and desperation for God’s presence, David trusts God's UNFAILING love, praising God for his salvation and for His goodness. That is some kind of FAITH! Unlike Eve, who entertained and then acted on Satan’s lies that God was not so good nor His love unfailing, we find David clinging to the Truth of salvation and God’s goodness, even when he can’t see or even feel His presence.
I wish I could tie up this little note with a bow, claiming that I’m now where David was, able to praise God for His goodness in spite of the darkness. But that wouldn’t be honest. But what I CAN say is that I now have a target, a place for my spirit to aim as it wades through the hurt. And I can also now recognize the Enemy, the one who’d love nothing better than for me to buy into his lies that God is not as good as He claims to be, that He doesn’t love like I’ve always banked on, and that He’s chosen to leave me in this place alone. So, that’s a start.
And as my fingers repeated that song without words, I felt something more than numbness. It was hope in the center of my longing. So, maybe my heart has its own songs of praise to sing, ones where words just fall short. For now, at least. But in the meantime, I’ll cling to the promise of the Holy Spirit’s interceding on my behalf, where words cannot express.
"In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express." Romans 8:26
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