Cry if you must, but then find comfort

“I am weary from my groaning; with tears I dampen my pillow and drench my bed every night. My eyes are swollen from grief; they grow old because of all my enemies.” (Psalm 6:6-7CSB).

While this verse may not be the best to start your day with, you must admit there are times when it is reality. Been there; done it. At such times it seems our hearts will break and our faith will fail. We cry out to God in agony of soul but the silence we seem to be met with is deafening.

In your despair, take heart. In another place the Psalmist reminds us “Weeping may last for the night, But a shout of joy comes in the morning. (Psalm 30:5 NASB).

I don’t know what struggle you may currently be facing. I know this: it is not worth giving up on God over. So many times when we struggle with the blows of life our tendency is run from the very One who can help us. He doesn’t panic. In fact, I’ve discovered that it is impossible to out-distance Him! How thankful I am for that fact (though truth be told, while I was trying to run away I wasn’t that thankful.)

No one put it better than Francis Thompson who wrote of his own flight in his poem, “The Hound of Heaven.”
I fled Him, down the nights and down the days;
I fled Him, down the arches of the years;
I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways
Of my own mind; and in the mist of tears
I hid from Him, and under running laughter.
Up vistaed hopes, I sped;
And shot, precipitated
Adown Titanic glooms of chasmed fears,
From those strong Feet that followed, followed after.
But with unhurrying chase,
And unperturbed pace,
Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,
They beat--and a Voice beat
More instant than the Feet -
"All things betray thee, who betrayest Me."

The picture is ingenious! A man running terrified; the sound of chasing feet, hiding, dodging, ducking into alleys, and still the sound of pursuing feet come. The heart beats harder, sweat breaks out on the brow, in anger we shout into the gloom, “Leave me alone!” But the sound of those padding feet continue on. As you work through this poem, Thompson has run until he can’t run any more. Get the picture. He is laying in a rain soaked street, the feet now are louder. There is no escape. But the feet stop short. There is no vicious attack, no remonstrations, just a loving voice,
That Voice is round me like a bursting sea:
"And is thy earth so marred,
Shattered in shard on shard?
Lo, all things fly thee, for thou fliest Me! "

Strange, piteous, futile thing!
Wherefore should any set thee love apart?
Seeing none but I makes much of naught" (He said),
"And human love needs human meriting:
How hast thou merited - Of all man's clotted clay the dingiest clot?
Alack, thou knowest not
How little worthy of any love thou art!
Whom wilt thou find to love ignoble thee,
Save Me, save only Me?
All which I took from thee I did but take,
Not for thy harms,
But just that thou might'st seek it in My arms.
All which thy child's mistake
Fancies as lost, I have stored for thee at home:
Rise, clasp My hand, and come."

Halts by me that footfall:
Is my gloom, after all,
Shade of His hand, outstretched caressingly?
"Ah, fondest, blindest, weakest,
I am He Whom thou seekest!
Thou dravest love from thee, who dravest Me."

Cry if you must. Then find comfort in His loving arms.