Sunday, August 28, 2011

Let Faith Arise

This post should be about Psalm 12 since my last one was about Psalm 11, but for many reasons I am not ready to move on (one of them being that I have no idea how to relate Psalm 12 to my life right now).  So, for today, I am going to post something that I have been thinking about posting for at least two weeks.

Now, I'm not usually one who gets wrapped up in whatever song is "trendy" or makes a habit of calling songs "mine."  I know plenty of people who do and it suits them, it's just not in my personality.  But, for weeks, there has been a song that I just can't get out of my head, probably because of how much it relates to my faith recently.  So, without further ado, here is a "trendy" (in Christian radio) song that I am starting to think of as "mine," Chris Tomlin's "Let Faith Arise."

If you know me well or have been keeping up with the blog, you will probably immediately recognize some parts of the song that I'm relating to.  There is so much that I could say to explain everything that I think I could ramble on for pages.  So, in the hopes of keeping everything as succinct as possible, I'm going to start from the beginning.

The very first verse says, "Be still, there is a Healer/His love is deeper than the sea/His mercy is unfailing/His arms, a fortress for the weak."  Never in my life have I felt such a need for healing and mercy as I have in the past months.  I have certainly not spent any time being still.  Sure, my life has been hectic without a doubt.  But, in reality, I have felt broken and have distracted myself from the desperation by keeping myself busy, not leaving any time to feel the disconnect from God.  Is this why I haven't felt the healing, love, and mercy I have been so desperate to have?

Then, there is a simple pre-chorus: "Let faith arise."  Let.  Again, has my faith been so weak because I have been stifling it, not letting it arise?

The chorus is what struck me so hard the first time I heard the song.  It starts with, "I lift my hands to believe again."  I have to take action.  If I want to believe God and trust Him again whole-heartedly, I need to act, to lift my hands.  You know, even thinking about that at this very moment is stressful.  I am anxious typing this because the thought of lifting my hands means a vulnerability toward God that I don't feel ready for.  It means I can't protect myself anymore.  To believe again, I have to raise my arms as a statement of faith to God.  I know this isn't necessarily a literal lifting of my arms, but right now my heart is pounding and I feel like I have a 30 pound weight sitting on my arms.

The next line is one that I probably don't need to explain, considering the content of pretty much every other blog post.  It says, "You are my refuge.  You are my strength."

Then, "As I pour out my heart, these things I remember/You are faithful, God, forever."  Well, I think my blog qualifies as pouring out my heart, but when I think about the recent struggles I have been dealing with, I am blind to all the times God has been faithful - to me and to those around me.  But still, the stubborn, hurt, part of me wants to demand, "If You are so faithful, God, why did I feel deserted when ____ happened?"  And my arms still feel weighed down.

Then, it hits me.  How much more faithful can I ask God to be?  As the next verse says, "Be still, there is a river/That flows from Calvary's tree/A fountain for the thirsty/Your grace that washes over me."  Jesus let his blood flow freely for me.  He experienced COMPLETE separation from his own Father.  For me.  A little lighter.

Let faith arise.

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