14d (edited) • General discussion
A Personal Psalm of Lament from a Weary Son
(Written from the heart, in the tradition of the Psalms)
O Lord,
I come to You not with strength,
but with what remains after strength has been spent.
I am tired beyond sleep.
I am weary beyond words.
My bones ache not from labor alone,
but from carrying sorrow that never seems to end.
I look around and see no family standing with me.
My mother is gone,
taken by suicide, before she could ever bless me. In fact in her letter I was the reason, my God was false, were her last words.
My father lives,
yet has told me I am unworthy of his name. And has found his God in a bottle
My brother wanders the streets, Fentanyl has got him under it's grip.
and I cannot reach him.
My family has turned their faces away,
as though my very existence offends them.
What you said would be favour to come has turned to dust.
I have no table where I am welcomed.
No house where I am expected.
No voice calling to ask if I am still standing.
Even the places meant for refuge feel silent.
I walked into Your house seeking fellowship,
but the shepherd did not answer when I called.
The room was small, the people were few,
and still I felt unseen.
Lord, I gave my life to serving others.
I carried hundreds, made time for all,
listened, answered, stayed late, showed up.
And now I stand here asking,
does anyone see me at all?
Like David, I feel accused without trial.
Like David, I am spoken of in whispers.
Like David, I am faithful in private,
yet treated as though I am faithless.
Those who know nothing of my nights
question my heart.
Those who have never carried my burden
judge my steps.
Like Elijah, I have run until there was nothing left.
I have outrun despair only to collapse beneath it.
I have said the words I never wanted to say,
It is enough, Lord.
Not because I want to die,
but because I no longer know how to keep going alone, and like Elijah I ask for the mercy of death.
And like Jeremiah,
there are days I curse the day I was born.
Days I ask why light was given to me at all.
Days I wonder why I was formed
only to be acquainted so deeply with grief.
I do not curse You, Lord,
but I curse the sorrow that greeted me at the door of life,
and I ask why my beginning was marked by pain
before I ever chose it.
I confess before You, O God,
that I have sinned.
I do not hide it.
I do not excuse it.
The year after my divorce broke me,
and in my brokenness I fell.
I reached for what was forbidden,
for comfort that could not save,
for relief that only deepened the wound.
I grieve the ways I dishonored You.
I grieve the man I became in that season.
But hear me, Lord.
I did not turn my back on You.
Even in my sin, I cried out.
Even in my failure, I longed for truth.
Even when I stumbled, I did not stop believing
that You are holy,
that You are just,
that You are merciful.
And like Job,
I argue with You from the dust.
I ask why the righteous suffer
while the careless sleep in peace.
I ask why I am examined every morning
and tested every night.
I ask why my endurance is required
without explanation.
I do not accuse You of wrongdoing,
but I ask You to answer me.
I ask You to remember that I am flesh,
not stone.
You know my heart.
You know I have tried to do good in the world.
I have given my life to the hurting.
I have stood with the broken.
I have fought for children, for men, for those cast aside.
I have chosen responsibility over ease,
sacrifice over escape,
fatherhood over self preservation.
And yet here I am, Lord.
Still lonely.
Still misunderstood.
Still standing in the gap
Still interceding, no matter the cost.
with no one standing beside me.
If You do not speak, I will still wait.
If You do not send comfort through others,
then You Yourself must be my comfort.
If no one calls me brother,
then call me son.
I do not ask for vindication today.
I ask for endurance.
I do not ask for praise.
I ask for presence.
Do not leave me to fight unseen battles alone.
Do not let my faith become a solitary echo in the dark.
Remember me, O God,
not because I am righteous,
but because I am Yours.
If I am to walk this valley longer,
walk it with me.
If I am to stand alone for a season, or for FOREVER
stand near.
If my life is to be poured out quietly,
then let it still be pleasing in Your sight.
I place my exhaustion before You.
I place my loneliness before You.
I place my past, my sin, my grief, my unanswered prayers
into Your hands.
I have nothing left to prove.
Only You left to trust.
D A Woodfield
1
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A Personal Psalm of Lament from a Weary Son
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