RIPPED APART

I sit by the water.

Early in the morning.

It looks like a huge flat mirror reflecting God's glory.

It's perfect.

Still.

Unbothered.

I watch the birds fly over the water. Between the water and the sun. And I wonder: do they have any idea of the beauty they see?

 

That is what I want.

That is what I crave.

Peace.

Quiet.

Unbothered by the demands and the interruptions of life.

But then I see it.

I know the quiet will end.

The peace will be disturbed.

I know the "mirror" will be broken.

And I wonder why there always has to be the interruptions.

I wonder why the water, and we people, have to be "ripped" open.

Why does the water have to be moved and torn apart?

Why does the mirror have to be broken?

The interruption comes closer.

I see the "ripping."

The ripping apart of the water.

And then I think about the "rippings" in my own life.

The one that ripped me to the bone and tore right through my heart.

And all the little ones compared, and how they each have ripped me a little more.


I'm lost in the remembrance of them all when I hear the lapping.

It's soft.

Gentle.

But consistent.

With a rhythm of it's own.

The ripping has caused the water to sing.

The interruption. The breaking. The tearing apart, has caused the water to roll onto the shore and to make music.


And I know it's true.

I know when I was ripped apart, I started to sing.

It was in my ripping, I found My Reason to sing.

And I don't know if one can really sing without the ripping.

Just like I don't know if one can really dance without the mourning.

Or find true joy without the sadness.

And could we really and truly ever know peace without the ripping apart?


Jeremiah the prophet was ripped apart.

"He has filled me with bitterness and given me a bitter cup of sorrow to drink.  He has made me chew on gravel. He has rolled me in the dust.

Peace has been stripped away, and I have forgotten what prosperity is.

I cry out, "My splendor is gone! Everything I had hoped for from the LORD is lost!"

The thought of my suffering and homelessness is bitter beyond words. I will never forget this awful time, as I grieve over my loss."

And just like the water makes music when it has been ripped and torn,  Jeremiah makes his own.

He sings:

"Yet I still dare to hope when I remember this:

The faithful love of the LORD never ends! 

His mercies never cease.

Great is his faithfulness;

His mercies begin afresh each morning."

Lamentations 3:15-23