My Soul Thirsteth
Unto Thee Creator I lift up my soul, You are the Only One that I can trust my soul to. You created and breathed life into it. The lifting up of my soul is with the desired humility I seek You with. Not to be elevated in pride, and not in the arrogance that lifting can suggest or sweet words it can render. Let my soul be free to exit all un-repentance, liken to the departing of a burning building and its sorrowful woes and dangers. As I position myself before You, allow streams of repentant light to outshine all darkness that can hinder me. Let the pure waters cleanse and ointment heal putrid wounds. My soul is crying, it weeps in quiet sorrow. In silence and quietness, apart, and alone in its secret place and space, my soul is crying and its grief only You know and hear.
The only interruption I acknowledge is me. I refuse to blame or name any others, nor will I claim all the tarnished pleasures disguising and masquerading themselves like treasures, that I can be the winner of if I will just fumble my need to repent to You. I realize and know what falling short of glory means. It means the streams of light, the splendor, and radiance of who You are and where You reside, is a distant place, instead of a prayer that is faster than the speed of light, yet the light has to be allowed to frisk prayer to ensure that an unrepentant heart is not aboard, seeking to go pass security that only repentance can secure.
The assistance needed so that the darkness which tries to exalt a tainted soul and counterfeit its way can be abolished. Grant me the privilege to feel the sorrow within me and not become numb and as dumb to despair and what is happening everywhere in the world. When I am on the wrong path of not feeling remorse at all, please sound the alarm within me so that I can distinguish between false and true. Please don’t allow evil to camouflage guilt or mask deception, and feed me delusions as sleeping pills, giving me an unauthorized invite to a happy hour hosted by un-repentance, and its unrepentant guests, which denote galas full of all the horrors of a nightmare on every un-=repentant avenue and street. An unauthorized happy hour is over, oh my soul.
All of the wrong deeds, every intent, motive, and all desires are undressed and unadorned; whereas, they used to be decked in mediocrity that advocates and conforms to comfort. I see that poverty has made negotiations for my demise, it is evident that naked sin wants to adorn me with nothing. I realize what wretchedness can offer and blindness means living without seeing You high and lifted up. Only the flesh wants the accolades or rewards my soul is not seeking, which lurk unconsciously in the deep places of who I am. I understand that to repent is not a one-time event, but rather, it is a loud trumpet blasting daily that my soul is hearing without the props of deceit or fear of seeing what vexation truly is.
Repentance is a brightly lit corridor I am walking down in route to somewhere, and not the nowhere un-repentance leads to and through, and not the pit it dug for my soul to drop to the lowest place. There are seats in un-repentance, but I cannot get comfortable enough to sit in the scorn it produces. I must rise so that I can stand before and towards You who my soul adores. Dismantling the frequency of the shout from the hall of shames that premeditate things which are contrary to what is right, yet my mind allows without warning or cause, just the effects it sets in motion. Shouldn’t I have my own sorrows over what the condition of my soul is as it resounds and what the body has been introduced to and how it is subject to be an un-repentant servant like that of the wayward child that the parents cannot discipline or control.
It is not a new thing that I am dealing with because there is no new thing under the sun. Even the Psalmist cried out in anguish, distress, and grief. Questioning his own soul. “Why art thou cast down O my soul and why art thou disquieted in me, he adds, (paraphrase) my advice to you O my soul, is hope thou in God for I shall yet praise Him because He is the help of my countenance”. He cheers me and lights my way, each and every day. In this psalm the quest begins with him panting and longing for God, he likens his experience to a hart (deer) panting after the water brooks, he is thirsty, dry and parched. He adds, so my soul panteth after Thee O God my soul thirsteth for You, for the living God and this quest by the psalmist brought him delight. You can read it for yourself in Psalm 42. There are two stages addressed in this psalm, “lament” the crying and weeping of the soul, asking it why and the “hope” the soul rejoicing in its maker and not what is taking time through struggles, challenges and all that is due to un-repentance so that the soul can properly heal.
