Job 35:10 But no one says, ‘Where is God my Maker, Who gives songs in the night
HELD: By Natalie Grant
Two months is too little
They let him go
They had no sudden healing
To think that providence would
Take a child from his mother while she prays
Is appalling
Who told us we’d be rescued?
What has changed and why should we be saved from nightmares?
We’re asking why this happens To us who have died to live?
It’s unfair
This is what it means to be held
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive
This is what it is to be loved
And to know that the promise was
When everything fell we’d be held
This hand is bitterness
We want to taste it, let the hatred numb our sorrow
The wise hands opens slowly to lilies of the valley and tomorrow
This is what it means to be held
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive
This is what it is to be loved And to know that the promise was
When everything fell we’d be held
If hope is born of suffering
If this is only the beginning
Can we not wait for one hour watching for our Savior?
This is what it means to be held
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive This is what it is to be loved And to know that the promise was
When everything fell we’d be held
Some songs seem to speak deeply to your heart in a special way. Like “deep calling to deep”, the lyrics simply sink into your soul and are met with an understanding that rises from your core. Though heard for the first time, there is an unmistakable recognition, like an old friend entering in to the room bringing shared memories with them.
I felt that kind of response the first time I heard Natalie Grant’s song “Held”. Something inside me simply reverberated with understanding, especially when I heard her broken heart as she sang, “when the sacred is torn from your life and you survive”. I thought, what an incredibly insightful way to put it. The sacred is torn away, but somehow you survive!
There are so many things that we hold dear, that over the span of our lifetime actually become sacred to us. Dreams, hopes, ambitions; childish wishes that we pray one day will come true, that we hold onto tightly, praying and working to see that they may one day come into being only to watch them one by one torn from our lives. We stand helpless as someone who could care less about our broken dreams and shattered hopes rips our innocence from us. One by one, we lose what once was sacred and begin to live as hollow people, surviving as we attempt to somehow live down the embarrassment and rebuild what is left of our lives.
Some dreams die hard, and when they finally do die they leave scars and inner pain that can haunt us over a lifetime. And yet, we survive. What at one time were sacred dreams sometimes morph into the nightmares we daily find ourselves wrestling with. We begin to shelter hurtful memories, treating them like old friends even though they produce thoughts that bring sorrow and emotional pain that cannot be expressed. Eventually, this becomes the fabric of our lives, while we slowly are convinced that this is all there is and all there ever will be.
“Who told us we’d be rescued? What has changed and why should we be saved from nightmares?” is more than a line in a song; it is the question we grapple with on a daily basis. Eventually “We’re asking why this happens to us who have died to live?” and we finally simply whimper to God: It’s unfair. The ironic thing is, it really does seem to be unfair to those who have died to live. For those who have honestly forsaken all to follow Him, it can sometimes seem incredibly unfair. We who have died to live started living a life with the purpose of honoring Jesus, and the result was sorrow upon sorrow.
We see children growing up in a home that has no time or love for the Lord excelling, prospering, healthy, and successful and we wonder about that. On the other hand, our children may die at an early age, and our hearts are crushed. They may injure us through unwise decisions, breaking our hearts and bringing pain to us while those who should have been our closest friends and strongest support became our greatest critics, leaving our side when we needed them most.
We may begin to suffer with an incurable disease, and find ourselves in constant pain. We lose our husband or wife to a freak accident, tragic event or unexpected illness and our hearts break with sorrow and are filled with questions about the goodness of God. We stand next to a dying father, watching as his life slowly ebbs from him, fighting back tears, trying to make sense of it and needing to remain calm as we watch the most important man in our lives slipping away from us. Finally, we find ourselves crying and thinking, “He is not going to make it. He is leaving my mother alone for the first time in 53 years. He will not be at the wedding of my sons and daughters. He will never hold my grandchildren. I will never make him laugh again, see his smile, or ask for his counsel. My Jesus, we are not ready to see him go. Lord, it’s unfair!”
I became a Christian on December 27, 1970 and over the years I have walked with the Lord, I have had many “sacred” things painfully torn from my life and I have ministered to countless Christians who have experienced similar pain. Over time I have discovered that these experiences have shaped me in to the man that I am today, and am beginning to learn to “kiss the thorns” that have pierced my heart.
My life is really no different than the average person, and everybody has a story when it comes to disappointment and hurts. This is a journey I have been made familiar with and what I really want to do is to remind all of us of the words of the sweet psalmist of Israel, David who said “though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, you are with me”. We walk through the valley, every one of us. But when we have a saving knowledge of Jesus we do not walk alone, for He is with us, and He comforts us.
The one thing I am learning and that I want you to know is this: God is our Maker, He gives us songs in the night and in Him, we can learn the fine art of dancing in the dark.
