Pleading for Peace

“I’ve heard the song of sirens in violent seas / Now lead me by still waters and quiet streams / It’s been far too long / Oh Spirit, be my peace” - Jonathan Ogden; Song: Be My Peace

Streams in Belize, circa 2018

The weight of pleading for peace, when all you can see is chaos, is humbling. You never imagine that when times are good, you would do anything to return to the peace you didn’t even realize you had.

My life has changed drastically in the last year. I’ve lost several people close to me, carried the weight of seemingly impossible responsibilities, and been diagnosed with a lifelong chronic illness. I’ve carried the weight of disappointment after believing for more and trusting that with a new season, my life would look different. I was dreaming and believing for a breakthrough after years of work, prayers, and building for a future. Instead, I am the one who broke. My anticipated breakthrough turned into a season of breaking – mental, spiritual, and physical breakdown. The cascading waves left me reeling, and the physical manifestation of my losses in my health crisis felt like the final straw. Suddenly, I was left to face all the things I feared, and all the things I was running away from caught me, forcing me to confront some of my deepest fears, doubts, weaknesses, and insecurities.

As I look at myself in the mirror and compare to old photos, I see how the light has left my eyes. I feel lost in the wilderness of my pain and disappointment, like I’ve been robbed of any hope and joy I was holding on to. As I ward off depression and repeat to myself the reasons why it’s worth getting up in the morning, I find myself crying out for peace. For still waters and quiet streams. Because it’s been far too long. And I need His peace. The peace that can only come from One who, in His divinity, made His home in our fragile humanity. The One I feel has allowed my breaking is the only One who can give me that peace. 

Hence, my wrestling, my crying, and my pleading. I’m waiting. I’m praying. I’m ready to search.

For peace.

Note: Thanks for joining me here today, friend. This post is part of a larger series where I'm sharing responses to the songs and artists that are currently carrying me. The ones that have been witnesses to my grief, and have given me words when I had none to give. If you find any comfort and joy in following along, please join me. I hope these songs minister to you as much as they have to me. See the launch post here: https://www.joyuntainted.com/post/on-having-no-words