even this

I can't even express how overwhelmingly sad I have been since yesterday afternoon. I've been walking around in this haze of numbness and bitterness and snapping at my husband and ignoring my dog and just generally feeling sad yet having nothing productive to do with it. And I don't want to feel better or get over it because you know what? What happened in Boston SUCKS. And I wasn't there, and I don't personally really know anyone who was, and it's not like woe is me, this is all about me, I am so effected. I'm not. But like any other living, breathing person with a soul, those explosions rocked me to my core and I am angry and so, so sad for everyone whose lives have been ruined by this. And when tragedies like this strike, it seems like we don't know what to do-- to mourn, or to try to move on? To bask in the grief and the sadness, or to fight for optimism and try to find silver linings? 

When I try to pray, I don't get any farther than Jesus, please...

And every time it stops there, because I can't go on. I don't know what to say, I don't know what to request. It's just too much. Jesus, please is all I have. 

And in the midst of Jesus, please, I remember this:

"The LORD says, 'I will give you back what you lost to the swarming locusts...'" (Joel 2:25 NLT)

And I know I wrote a lot about this a few weeks ago, and I know I meant it, but I don't want to remember it now. I don't want my faith to be drummed up, I don't want to offer some fake, cheery hope to people who are missing their friends, their limbs, their children. Right now, even the hope of redemption can feel a little bit callous. Like it somehow insults the valid feelings of grief and loss right now. 

And so I try to ignore the quiet voice promising to redeem even this. The promise that even this is not beyond restoration...somehow. In some way. 

It doesn't seem possible...that there could be any sort of redemption to come from this. What would be nice, I inform God, is if you could maybe just give these folks back their loved ones. Or their limbs. I'm pretty sure that's all they really want...not some grand promise of a someday redemption.

I love how I can just tell God how best to run the world. I'm sure he really values my input. And as soon as I finish telling him what's up, I lose my bravery once again and it's just Jesus, please.

And again He says:
"I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten..." (Joel 2:25 NIV)

Even this. Even now. Even when we're too broken, too angry, too sad to want to hear it. Even still, He promises to redeem.

Boston, my heart breaks for you. In the depths of my sorrow, I know that I can't even begin to understand what it's like for you right now. And there's nothing like some girl who has no idea what it's like to go through this coming and offering promises of redemption, but here I am. I pray Jesus, please and He whispers back that even this He will redeem. I don't know what it will look like, but I wait with you in expectation and hope, even as today I cry. Jesus, come.