By the rivers of Babylon,
There we sat down, yea, we wept
When we remembered Zion.
We hung our harps
Upon the willows in the midst of it.
For there those who carried us away captive asked of us a song,
And those who plundered us requested mirth,
Saying, “Sing us one of the songs of Zion!”
How shall we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land?
I don't always understand His ways.
Where is He when we find ourselves sitting by the rivers of Babylon, mourning all that is lost... grieving at the sight of empty chairs and fatherless sons? Where is He when strength runs low, inviting us to hang our harps on the willows and fall broken to the ground?
Where is joy... where can peace be found when tragedy strikes the one sitting next to you?
How can we sing the songs of the Lord when eyes spill tears and throats burn strong?
How? And why? And where? Where is this King of Glory you ask? Where is He now?
Where is He now?
And this I will say. This I know...
I don't understand His ways - but it is in these moments of darkness I cling tighter... press in harder... cry out louder. It is in these moments of desperate seeking that I find peace simply by being in His presence.
There I see His own eyes, liquid spilling down and arms longing to hold brokenness. In His presence, I am undone by a joy unexpected and compassion overwhelming.
In His presence, I am wrecked by love.
I may not understand... but I know peace in the center of devastation simply because I. know. Him.
We don’t have a priest who is out of touch with our reality.
He’s been through weakness and testing,
experienced it all—all but the sin.
So let’s walk right up to Him and get what He is so ready to give.
Take the mercy, accept the help.
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