Several weeks ago I began a series that I called “Soul Searching,” and, yes, I know that it’s a bit cliché. Yet, as I sit here at my computer, struggling for words, I realize that I may have embarked upon something that I was not ready for. As we said in Oklahoma, I bit off more than I could chew. I introduced the series with a blatant attempt to convince you, the reader, that there is something inside of you yearning for more than the American Dream, more than the lofty yet shallow goals of money and power. I began with the premise that all of us are searching for more than what we see around us.
And yet, as I think about what the implications for this are, I find myself at a loss for words. It’s almost as if the vision that I had for the continuance of this series has been wiped clean. I woke up one morning and realized that all of the things I planned on writing about seemed trite and ineffective. It felt as if I had said everything I needed to say.
There’s a great song called “All I Can Say,” and the chorus says, simply, “This is all that I can say right now/I know it’s not much/and this is all that I can give/and that’s my everything.”
I began singing the words to this song and realizing that, for several weeks now, this has been the cry of my heart. I simply have not had the words. And as I try to think of the things I should say next, I keep falling on this song. I keep landing back in words that have already been written—instead of trying to think of new things to say, I am going to simply write the words to this song. It may seem cliché, corny even, but hopefully they will resonate in a way that my own words, which fail me now, cannot.
The last two entries have been all about a sense of wandering, seeking, knowing that there is something out there just beyond our reach. The first verse of the song says,
“Lord, I’m tired, so tired from walking. And Lord, I’m so alone. The dark is creeping in, it’s creeping up to swallow me. I think I’ll stop and rest here a while.”
When you come to any kind of realization that you have deep, profound yearnings for meaning beyond the petty capitalism and the pseudo-freedom this world has to offer, then you find yourself in an immediate state of paralysis. The space between realization and movement is full of questions; you can’t help but shout to the universe, “Then what am I doing here?”
“And didn’t you see me crying? Didn’t you hear me call your name? Wasn’t it you I gave my heart to? I wish you’d remember where you sat it down.”
The questions that are asked in this “space between” are deep and sometimes more painful than we realize. They create chasms that have been previously filled with all of the things we try to mend our hearts with. If God is out there, why doesn’t he see me crying? Doesn’t he hear us? Doesn’t he see the suffering?
“I didn’t notice You were standing here. I didn’t know that was You holding me. I didn’t notice that You were crying too. I didn’t know that was You washing my feet.”
It’s easy to associate Jesus with all of the misdeeds, the disunity, the violence, and the pain that His people have caused. It is not difficult to allow the brokenness of humanity to get in the way of the power of love. But when you begin on this journey—when you realize that there is more in store for you than simple pleasures and empty promises of happiness, when you become paralyzed as you ask the deepest questions of your soul, and when you allow yourself to be moved by the power of love—then the picture of your life becomes more clear. You can begin to move forward again. You can realize that there is a Love that is moving in this world that will cry with you, hold you, and wash your feet. You can allow yourself to be overtaken by a Love that will stir within you a new purpose. You will see that—although this world is inundated with brokenness, greed, oppression, suffering, and hurt—love will win.
“…He will destroy the shroud [of suffering, oppression, anger, hurt, violence, greed, injustice] that enfolds all peoples, the sheet that covers all nations; he will swallow up death forever. The Lord will wipe away tears from all faces…” (Isaiah 25.7-8)
Love will win.
And “this is all that I can say right now/I know it’s not much.”
