I'm listening to a song of hope. It's called Mountain to Valley by Jason Upton. The chorus washes over my frightened spirit. "There's one thing I can't escape: Your Love. From the mountain to the valley, from the silence to the city street... Your Presence always covers me."
I listen to it on repeat, letting my tired heart drown in its gentle reminder of hope.
And then it says something outrageous.
Plagued by your promises.
What?
Jason, I hope you know, plagues aren't a good thing. Typical Leah, I looked up the definition.
plague noun : a destructively numerous influx
an epidemic disease causing a high rate of mortality.
I was singing this song. Did I know what I was asking for?
Oh, Jesus, I want to be plagued by your promises. I want this destructive influx of promises to come in and wreck my soul. I want it to destroy my hopelessness. I want it to weaken my white fists wrapped tightly around the illusioned control of my life. I want this plague to ravage my soul until it has taken everything. I want this epidemic disease to take effect and ruin me. I've never been so thirsty for destruction and ruin.
Does this prayer terrify me? Absolutely.
The hopelessness I see when I look around me is frightening. I'm wounded by the pain I see. The devastating loss. The crippling sorrow. The oppressive anxiety. The lies that steal the truth. I want hope to sneak in like a plague and wipe it all away.
I want hope. I want it desperately, the way a flower needs water to grow. I want hope, the way the ground needs rain to cultivate. I want, in the midst of this chaotic, terrifying, painful life, for hope to drown me in the goodness of God.
This is a hope that will follow me no matter the circumstance. I want to see it when I look back, when I walk on the path of my life and when I attempt to foresee my future. I want that hope. I desire it when I scroll through Facebook and see cancer diagnosis and horror stories of abuse and torture. I need it when a friend cannot see the light or questions her worth. I long for it because the world doesn't make sense. The pain isn't going away. The struggle is remaining far more real than I ever imagined. I long for it because the ache in me for Heaven is real. The peace that is there, the loved ones who have gone, the presence of Jesus.
So I need the hope. I need to be plagued by Your promises. Take me captive, Jesus, to be Your Prisoner of Hope.
Zechariah 9:11-12
As for you, also, because of the blood of my covenant with you. I will also set your prisoners free from the waterless pit. Return to your stronghold O prisoners of hope."
I listen to it on repeat, letting my tired heart drown in its gentle reminder of hope.
And then it says something outrageous.
Plagued by your promises.
What?
Jason, I hope you know, plagues aren't a good thing. Typical Leah, I looked up the definition.
plague noun : a destructively numerous influx
an epidemic disease causing a high rate of mortality.
I was singing this song. Did I know what I was asking for?
Oh, Jesus, I want to be plagued by your promises. I want this destructive influx of promises to come in and wreck my soul. I want it to destroy my hopelessness. I want it to weaken my white fists wrapped tightly around the illusioned control of my life. I want this plague to ravage my soul until it has taken everything. I want this epidemic disease to take effect and ruin me. I've never been so thirsty for destruction and ruin.
Does this prayer terrify me? Absolutely.
The hopelessness I see when I look around me is frightening. I'm wounded by the pain I see. The devastating loss. The crippling sorrow. The oppressive anxiety. The lies that steal the truth. I want hope to sneak in like a plague and wipe it all away.
I want hope. I want it desperately, the way a flower needs water to grow. I want hope, the way the ground needs rain to cultivate. I want, in the midst of this chaotic, terrifying, painful life, for hope to drown me in the goodness of God.
This is a hope that will follow me no matter the circumstance. I want to see it when I look back, when I walk on the path of my life and when I attempt to foresee my future. I want that hope. I desire it when I scroll through Facebook and see cancer diagnosis and horror stories of abuse and torture. I need it when a friend cannot see the light or questions her worth. I long for it because the world doesn't make sense. The pain isn't going away. The struggle is remaining far more real than I ever imagined. I long for it because the ache in me for Heaven is real. The peace that is there, the loved ones who have gone, the presence of Jesus.
So I need the hope. I need to be plagued by Your promises. Take me captive, Jesus, to be Your Prisoner of Hope.
Zechariah 9:11-12
As for you, also, because of the blood of my covenant with you. I will also set your prisoners free from the waterless pit. Return to your stronghold O prisoners of hope."
