joyful joyful we adore thee

What the hell am I supposed to write? These crass thoughts and prayers are all I have to give to my Father. His Love is so good. 

So tell me, sons and daughters of God, who is your Father? Who is your King? What is the point of your life? What the hell are you doing... or not doing? These aren't questions of accusation. They are more directed at myself that anyone else. 

So then, here are the answers:

My Father is the life and breath that sustains me. He is the strength that my body is lacking. I ache and groan and gasp as I try to make it up the stairs. He's the reason why I finally make it past the last step and He knows when I can't. He doesn't shame me when my muscles give out or when I have nothing left. There is nothing un-good or unkind about Him. He is Love.

My King is power and might. He is not surprised by the baseball sized tumor that is slowly sapping everything out of my love. He is not surprised by the "turn" of events, by my inability to finish the semester, by my enraged heart, by this f-ing incessant deluge of pain. He does not abandon. He does not sit idly by. He is not clean-cut or tame. He roars in my anguish.  He gathers me up in His might and breathes peace into my lungs. He is Good.

Me? Only He knows. What a wonderful conclusion. 

I know joy. Do you?

Psalm 42

For the director of music. A maskil of the Sons of Korah. ^{a]" style="font-size: 0.75em; line-height: 0.5em; ">[a]}

   1 ^{b]" style="font-size: 0.75em; line-height: 0.5em; ">[b]} As the deer pants for streams of water, 

       so my soul pants for you, O God.

 ² My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. 
       When can I go and meet with God?

 ³ My tears have been my food 
       day and night, 
       while men say to me all day long, 
       "Where is your God?"

 ⁴ These things I remember 
       as I pour out my soul: 
       how I used to go with the multitude, 
       leading the procession to the house of God, 
       with shouts of joy and thanksgiving 
       among the festive throng.

 ⁵ Why are you downcast, O my soul? 
       Why so disturbed within me? 
       Put your hope in God, 
       for I will yet praise him, 
       my Savior and ⁶ my God. 
       My ^{c]" style="font-size: 0.75em; line-height: 0.5em; ">[c]} soul is downcast within me; 
       therefore I will remember you 
       from the land of the Jordan, 
       the heights of Hermon—from Mount Mizar.

 ⁷ Deep calls to deep 
       in the roar of your waterfalls; 
       all your waves and breakers 
       have swept over me.

 ⁸ By day the LORD directs his love, 
       at night his song is with me— 
       a prayer to the God of my life.

 ⁹ I say to God my Rock, 
       "Why have you forgotten me? 
       Why must I go about mourning, 
       oppressed by the enemy?"

 ¹⁰ My bones suffer mortal agony 
       as my foes taunt me, 
       saying to me all day long, 
       "Where is your God?"

 ¹¹ Why are you downcast, O my soul? 
       Why so disturbed within me? 
       Put your hope in God, 
       for I will yet praise him, 
       my Savior and my God.