Dear You, and I and Us,
There are fogs of the broken heart.
A silent mist for hopes shattered in twos.
There are lads and ladies in the lowlands, and visions that dim with the valleys.
For tragedies that blind your sight, and traumas that break your heart — hear this, even if it comes as a single word.
Up you must go – and straight into the mountain of the Lord.
And many peoples will come and say, “Come, let us go up to the mountain of the LORD, To the house of the God of Jacob; That He may teach us concerning His ways And that we may walk in His paths.” (Isaiah 2:3)
Even if the whole world whirls on while you’re worn out.
Even when everyone’s moved on while you’re stuck behind.
Even when you’ve been betrayed by those you love the most, and abandoned by those who promised to father you. And you’re spilling tears on the side of a loved one’s casket.
“Up” — that’s where you must go, that’s where you must stay.
Because when He leads you into the valleys, He’ll let you see Him on the heights, and allow your broken bits to heal.
He’ll make you stand atop His watchtower, so you learn what only the folded hands and kneeling knees know: stars shine the brightest in the darkest of nights.
He won’t leave you sidestepped on the sidewalks of life.
Rise — you must rise.
Because who’d ever get this?
For those days when you’re hollowed out in the lowlands of life, He’s provided a High Way out.
For the seasons when the fog of depression disorients, and the black of losses eclipses — He’s got His light shining through all your cracks.
The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned. (Isaiah 9:2)
See how when He leads you into the valley, His grace will brim right bright, and your own valleys will birth you a new vision. Because visions aren’t birthed on pinnacle, and the cross always precedes the crown.
When His elevation provides fortitude, He changes your playing field. You begin to see problems for what they really are: temporary and minuscule, and people for what they really should be: fallen and imperfect. And somehow, in all your busted heart, you can breathe in the air of forgiveness, you can manage your pain, because staying up is the way to heal.
“I will make all My mountains a road, And My highways will be raised up.” (Isaiah 49:11)
So stand atop on His mountain, and record what He says.
Record all the ways He’s changing you.
On this elevated height, you can go from wrestling with Him to resting in Him.
You can delete all those dialogues, clear all that whatsapp chats, and erase the memories that torment.
You can live above all the lowlands that level you flat, and all those grounds that keep you small.
We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed” (2 Corinthians 4:8–9)
Up here on the mountain, you can love full even when you feel empty within.
You can laugh free because of His strength birthing joy within you.
You can sow seeds of life even when you have to shed tears of sorrow.
Because Christ came, when we’re choked with our own tears, and caught in our wounds in places too deep to reach.
He came to heal us from cuts that scrape us numb, and to throw back darkness so His light can come flinging in and the King will come rushing in.
Because in places dark and valleys low the presence of God comes wooing in, and He’ll find you and heal you.
Though He rarely comes at our appointed time, He will always come at the right time.
And He’ll always, always come for you.
And this is how you can let your heart trust again, one single beat at a time.