Ah, Troubles

There are times when we come to God and to one another, hearts and lives open, spilling out the cares and fears and owning each ill. Like children, we share our carings and cravings. We talk about family and lives turned upside down, the things that rip our hearts apart and the things that have brought us joy beyond imagining. Apologetically, we pore over the things that seem mundane and the things so small that even if they changed, there would be no change, really.

There are times like that, times of sharing and talking with God and one another. And then, there are the times and things that we discuss only with God. Things too deep, too aching, too private, too personal.

These things we carry deep inside us, hold them like secret jewels or contagious disease, afraid of giving away some hint, feeling that we should cry out, “Unclean! Unclean!” We tighten the tourniquet around our heart, afraid some forbidden bleeding may betray us.

But in the dark aloneness, when our deepest hurts are most our own, we bare ourselves before our Maker, wounded, weakened, ashamed and angry of our suffering. Yelling, whimpering, crying out in sobs too violent for expression and with groanings too deep for words. We grieve, we ache, we empty ourselves, strip bare to the bone of the soul.

And in those moments, are heard at the very throne of God.

H. Arnett

About Doc Arnett

Native of southwestern Kentucky currently living in Ark City, Kansas, with my wife of twenty-nine years, Randa. We have, between us, eight children and twenty-eight grandkids. We enjoy singing, worship, remodeling and travel.
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