When evils hit the world news and scenes of unjust suffering hit our eyes and hurt in our heart, it is hard to identify all our feelings. I want to fight, I want to flee. I’ve been tempted to turn away from God—burning with anger. At others times I’ve felt like withdrawing, closing my eyes and ears in horror, helplessness and fear. Last week, with news of the war in Gaza and the threat to Israel, my feelings went all over the place. I prayed, “O God, Help Israel,” but I also prayed something like, 

Father, Save me now. Don’t let my mind go bonkers with thinking that’s not Yours. Help me keep on wanting to be joined to you. Be with us all. Help us not to fear. Hold me. Hold Your family close to your heart.
Arise, O Lord, in the strength of Your might. 

 And mighty God is! When a friend called and we talked about the untoward violence, I felt impelled to blow the shofar. The sound rang loud and clear, once, twice, three times and more. (I don’t usually have that much breath.)  The sound charged the air and changed the atmosphere. My friend (still on the phone) and I heard a call, a gathering, a strength, a resetting of our spirits. I knew that God is God and God is with His children. I knew little else, beyond a definite sensing that God reigns. That night, still hurting at the loss of innocence, I could lie down and cry myself to sleep, cradled within God’s arms.

Later, I wondered, how does God feel when our thoughts confuse us and people (like me) are tempted to shake off His Word and question His love, when we begin to mistrust His care, maybe even refuse (or delay) His will. When I turn away from abiding union with God, what does He say? In my heart, I hear,

My child, don’t go there. Trust in Me. I’m with you now. Join yourself to Me. Don’t let your feelings fool you. Don’t listen to your unbelieving thoughts. Be still. Abide in Jesus. I have plans for you today. Abide in Jesus. Receive my love. In ways that you cannot understand, something larger than yourself is put into right order and completed when we are together. Yes. These are troubled days. Cry out to me in your concerns. Look to me.

Trusting God, I spent last Saturday writing. I wrote on and on and ended up with four new poems—drafts—all in need of revision. Publishing is a stand—my tiny “NO!” toward fear of what others might think and my trust that, as always, God’s people are a family. He is with us and we are not alone. It’s an act of conscious choice not to stuff or deny, not to run away, but to reach out, to speak out—to share with others the pain, the loss of innocence we bear. Here is the first poem.

Innocence