Graveyard of the Soul

There isn’t a rope long enough to pull me out of this despair.

One reaches for me only to tighten around my neck, stealing breath from weary places.

But there is another Hand.

A Hand that reaches lower than the pit I have fallen into.

A Hand with eyes fixed upon me in my lowest moments, casting care, holding weight I was never meant to carry.

My body lies still, waiting for strength to force another day forward, while fighting internal battles no one can see.

Not depression.

Something harder to name.

A grief buried deep in my soul.

Like being caught between solid ground and crashing waves, never fully drowning, never fully standing.

Like life in the graveyard of the soul.

Because I know better.

I know truth.

I know Your promises.

I know what Your Word says.

And still…

I do not always do better.

Maybe it is a matter of the heart.

Maybe grief settles deeper than strength can reach.

Maybe some places become so bruised they forget how to hope.

So I ask Jesus…

How do you find joy day after day when living in places that crush the soul?

Not joy from a moment.

Not joy from a smile.

Not joy borrowed from another person.

But joy rooted deep.

The kind that remains.

The kind that says:

No matter what happens, there is still hope for the believer.

The kind that settles inside a soul crying,

“It is well…”

While waves crash against the boat.

While water rises.

While it feels like sinking.

Because anguish has a way of waking before I do.

And some mornings the waves rise before I can.

But bottom line

I am making my bed.

I am changing my clothes.

I am getting up.

I am going about my day,

regardless if my soul feels like it is sinking.

Because some days faith does not look like victory.

Some days faith looks like movement.

One foot.

Then another.

And perhaps today the storm grows quiet.

A new horizon breaks through.

The struggle ceases.

And I am made new.