Instead of Keeping Quiet

For the ones holding complicated emotions this season.

I had the honor of sharing this as a spoken word with the women at Encounter 2023 a few weekends ago. It spoke specifically to our year’s theme of “Express Yourself”, but the more I’ve thought about it since the weekend ended - I know it speaks to so much more than that.

Thanksgiving is tomorrow and my heart is heavy for all those holding complicated, possibly conflicting emotions this holiday season. For those whose arms are empty or who have empty chairs missing dearly loved ones. Those whose year didn’t turn out the way they thought it would or are actively seeking the Lord and finding only silence.

I don’t have answers for all of it. I may not have answers for any of the heartache in your life, except that I do have Jesus and the gift of freedom He’s offered me these last few years. Freedom to grieve and to rejoice. Freedom to shake off the chains that so easily entangle and lift my chin to meet His eyes, where grace and mercy always lie. Freedom to walk in the power of the Holy Spirit. Freedom to let Him change me even when I have a hard time believing it.

I offer you this written word in the hopes that it will stir own your heart or move you to compassion for those you interact with this month and next. May we lean into our Jesus during this season of gratitude and joy, may we surrender our hearts to Him, and may we find more of Him than we ever knew possible.

This weekend, each year has become a marker of sorts.
Two years ago, I sat where you are,
determined to bottle up my hurt,
to hold it deep inside.
I’m here to serve, I said, not to receive.
This weekend is for them, it’s not about me. 

This was the mantra I’d repeat
again and again until it stuck in my head
and became all that I’d do and all that I said.

And then even still, tears pushed at the back of my eyes,
as the stars made their way into the Friday night sky,
and I ignored them so I could “focus” on God.
But really, I pretended I wasn’t feeling,
because wasn’t that the holiest thing to be doing?

Grief was knocking at the door of my heart
Practically begging for me to let it out,
But I wouldn’t. Or couldn’t.
Or feared what might happen if I opened the door
And released all control. 

Maybe it had been that way longer than I knew.
Because now the locked doors were completely rusted through.
The shuttered windows started to cave,
and give way beneath the anger that emerged
as unspoken grief gave way to rage.

There I was,
Eager to serve,
Desperate for an encounter with God.
Somehow convinced I’m doing what’s best,
choosing to believe that withholding my pain
was better than just being honest.
I’d drawn the shades and
boarded up every entrance but one. 
This one I coated with fresh paint,
adorned it with fancy drapes pulled back far enough
to give God a *glimpse* into my inner life and soul. 
I’d chosen to believe
this limited access was more than enough
to give Him of me. 

I’d surrendered to the lie
That less of Him
And more of me
Is the best way it could be.

On this marker weekend,
One year later, somewhere within,
There’s a little girl still crying out 
because she knows there’s better,
she just can’t seem to find it.
She wants to know full surrender,
but the darkness is dark
and the fear
That she’ll reach out for His hand
and not find it
is darker.

Just one little push and
I’m falling off the edge
treading endless water,
terrified of the depths,
scared they will suck me under.
And what will I find at the bottom of this grief?
My God, will you be there waiting for me?

Knock, knock
And the door will be opened.
But only if I’m coming to you.
I keep asking myself – God, are you knocking too?
Can you see past the doors of my heart
I’ve closed off to you?

Will you see inside
and still wait for me to lay my pride on the altar of your life
where you bled and died to make me right
with the One, Most High? 
You tore the veils that I’ve sewed back together.
You opened up the holy of holies
and yet I’m standing apart, living restless outside of your presence,
as if the things of this world could ever satisfy my hungry heart.

It all comes down to this:
Whatever I have inside
that could be said
will never make it through the door
unless I know it’s absolutely true
that you are good and kind
and I can trust you. 

Knock, knock
and it will be given to you.
For a Father knows 
how to give good gifts to His child.
I know that it’s true, and yet
the chasm between my heart and my mind
has never been so wide.

I want to tear at the seams, let all the light in,
Lift up my head, invite only your warmth in - 
but why does it Hurt so, so deeply?
Why does it feel a lot like I’m dying?
And still - 
There is no greater pursuit, is there?
There is nothing more worthwhile to do here. 

Knock, knock
Spirit of God will you answer my plea?
I can’t do it at all,
if it all depends on me.
I’m giving you access, Lord,
here’s my whole heart. 
I’m giving you freedom
to tear the walls apart. 
I’m tired and weary,
so let’s open every window,
and let your glory consume me. 

In every place where darkness held on,
may the light of your love
compose a new song
and let me sing it over and over
until the words can never leave me.
In every way the enemy once had power,
I give it back to you. 
I’ll shout from every room
that you are good and kind and true.
I come to you in prayer,
and run the carpet thin as my knees dig in,
baring my soul and asking for more and more and more.
When the hurt bears down,
I’ll let my tears become my deepest form of worship.
When the grief turns into rage behind my eyes 
because there goes an unfulfilled longing yet again,
I’ll scream and yell and let it out 
and then remember to my core:
These shattered dreams are reminding me
how much my soul longs for you 
forevermore.

And even though your gaze and care can always see
beyond what’s hidden within me,
this truth remains:
The power of the darkness over 
what I’ve withheld from the King
is banished in a moment
when I speak aloud 
what’s stirring in my soul.
Not because He doesn’t already know
the things I’ve yet to tell Him. 
It’s because I need to remember
how the light is so much better
and there’s delight within His kingdom.

Two years ago,
I thought there was power in my restraint,
and holiness in my silence.
I thought I was doing everyone a favor,
by making space for their voice in the absence
of my willingness to share.
But to steward well
the stuff we have inside
doesn’t mean we don’t let it out at all.
And to allow our King
to do the deep work within us
requires an expression, 
requires all our walls to fall. 

On this marker weekend,
here’s what I now know, that I didn’t before:
If withholding my heart from the Lord
is a stronghold for the enemies voice, then
praise is the rhythm and
expression is the weapon that 
silences the lies and invites
the truth of God to once again reign inside. 

The house I had built
to guard all my secrets
has fallen to the ground,
It’s shattered in pieces.
And to my surprise,
I’m not left homeless. 

A new kind of house 
surrounds me right now,
and I find myself,
bold enough to lift up my arms
and ask my Jesus this one thing:
that I may dwell in Your house, Lord
with the windows wide open
and the doors completely ajar.

With a rush of Your Holy Spirit like a mighty wind and fire,
may I gaze upon the beauty of Your face,
seeking you in every hidden place,
finding Your presence around all the corners,
feeling the glow of your favor everywhere I stand.
In Your dwelling,
I will find safety.
Within the walls of your home,
my heart will be secure.
I was hiding before,
but now I am hidden 
beneath the shadow of your wings.
I feel a soaring within me,
that little girl set completely free.
There is joy and delight,
there is honor for the grief and pain. 
You are here and there’s nothing else I need
For all the days of my life.

Knock, knock
The King of Kings ushers me in
And I know my heart is home. 

May you find home in Him this season, friend. 💛