Sing a New Song
“You know that you cannot say “I love you” in any way that is adequate, but you also know that you cannot simply be silent, that you have to say something, however badly. There are those things so important that one simply cannot be silent about them. This is preeminently true when we speak of God.”
Over a year ago, I heard God say to me, “Sing a new song, Jenni.” These poems and stories are part of this new song, one only I am capable of singing. It is unique and God requested it because it is an expression of all of my hopes, joys, pains, and sorrows with the light of His faithfulness shining on them… to me… here… right now. It is a cumulative articulation of all the agony and sorrow we endured along with God’s goodness and steadfast love. Proof of my brokenness and my belovedness. Though God asked for it, I need it.
The first year of our crisis I wrote almost nothing. I barely mentioned how my world was falling to pieces in my journal. When I finally gave myself permission to feel, to process, to grieve, it was a tsunami of emotion. Over a year’s worth of trauma began to surface. I had developed numerous physical ailments that were stress induced, like breaking out in hives and TMJ disorder. Perhaps there was a better way, and I encourage anyone in my shoes to search desperately for it, but at the time I was in pure survival mode.
When I finally picked up my pen, I was startled by what came out of me. Anger and fear were constant companions. Often my writings took the form of poetry because it seemed to be the only medium that could truly reflect what was happening within me. My poems were raw and often dark, sometimes hopeless. Even when I would express hope, I often did so without believing it. I wrote to try to convince myself. At first I was ashamed of my pain, my doubts, and my fear. Then I realized both sides are necessary. Like the man with a demon-possessed son crying out to Jesus, “I believe, help my unbelief!” I need to offer both to God, and to you. Sharing all of it will be messy. I cannot do it well enough but I surely cannot be silent. I will attempt to make it beautiful, because God is beautiful, as are His ways, but not without being honest about my reality as well. It is a tension I ask you to be willing to hold with me.
God asked me to sing, but as I sheepishly start to lift up the beginning strands of my song, I hear others singing too, both lamenting and praising. This is not a solo. This song has been going since creation. So I invite you to join me. Let us try to move to the music of this song surrounding us and speak, “however badly,” of the things that are so important that we simply cannot be silent about them, whether it be delight in the simple joys of life or the harshness of our pain or that truest of moments when we are holding our delight and pain both, all while knowing we are God’s beloved.
Quote from: Himes, Michael J. “Finding God in All Things”: A Sacramental Worldview and Its Effects, from “As Leaven in the World: Catholic Perspectives of Faith, Vocation, and the Intellectual Life,” Thomas M. Landy, Ed. (Sheed, Ward, 2001).
