Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me?

Why, my soul, are you downcast?

    Why so disturbed within me?

At 6.30 this morning I was awake. By 8.00 I was out at Lady Bower taking photos, listening to music, crying and trying to bury the urge to run away, to keep driving until I was as far away from Sheffield as possible. There was only one factor that prevented me from doing this: I had left my wallet at home and only had a quarter of a tank of petrol. I had cooking responsibilities at Church, I had a wife at home, I had an essay to write and I had washing to do at home. Surprisingly (or not for some of them) these did not impact my decision to actually turn back to Sheffield.

The night before I had been celebrating the wedding of two lovely friends. I had partied with some of my nearest and dearest. I had laughed, danced, cried tears of joy and sung and then danced some more. Yet when I looked into myself all I could hear was:

Why, my soul, are you downcast?

    Why so disturbed within me?

Recently I lost someone who was a rock to me. Even as I write this I feel selfish and I'm berating myself. He was a father, friend, husband, priest, grandfather, confidante and so much more to so many people. To me, he was my rabbi. I have no other name that can so aptly fit his role in my life. I am the man I am today because of him. I sat at his feet, learned, healed, rejoiced, wept, laughed and prayed. His life was nothing but a blessing to me and now his hand has left mine. In that moment of learning of his passing, the sense of isolation crept in. I have struggled to articulate and express the significance of this event. I am scared of appropriating others mourning, I am terrified of revealing my wounds to others. I am hurt and my tank is nearly empty. I am thirsty, my mourning has been my only spirituality for the last few weeks. I have felt alone, even when surrounded by people. Part of the way in which this also manifests in me is a deep aching in my bones, usually around my wrists, hands and chest. 

More recently I have been critiqued (fairly) on my resilience by several people. My (poor) interpretation of this has led me to try and bottle up my emotions or try and keep people at arm's length. I wear my heart on my face, never mind my sleeve, so this has been a painful experience, especially as I have gone through this time of mourning. I have also come to realise that God calls us to specific times and specific places for a purpose. I have seen these last few weeks as confirmation of where God has called me to and the people He has called me to support. 

However, this has not been helpful. I have closed off, kept people at a distance, managed my emotional responses and my interactions and looked at where I have been placed by God, to be a support for other. I completely missed the people who have needed me to be open. I have missed the people who have been maneuvred into place for me as I struggle and cry and mourn. I have missed my friends, family and community. If only I would listen to my own sermons! 

So with great reluctance, I got back in my car and turned back to Sheffield. I turned up to Church, smiled, cooked and talked. I also cried but hid it. I also mourned but shielded it. I then had the words echo inside me again:

Why, my soul, are you downcast?

    Why so disturbed within me?

So I picked up a Bible and looked for them, and found Psalm 42.

1 As the deer pants for streams of water,
    so my soul pants for you, my 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 people 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 to the house of God
    under the protection of the Mighty One[d]
with shouts of joy and praise
    among the festive throng.

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

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

The words Deep calls to Deep stood out to me. I realised that I had not only just closed myself from others, I had closed myself to God. My prayer life had become a presentation of requests, an arm's length devotion of the God I was supposed to see Him as. I left Church after my responsibilities, to retreat to my house to lick my wounds and mourn again in silence. A close friend messaged me to see how I was doing, as they realised I was missing after the service, and I was honest. This allowed them to step in, along with two other people and just be available. That was enough to break down this ridiculous wall I had built up against others and against God. That moment of being open and vulnerable, not explicitly but in just revealing my hurt, I found healing. I have now looked back and seen the key people who have been maneuvred into place in my life. The places where I can be vulnerable, and in that vulnerability find healing.

I am still hurt. I am still mourning. I am struggling, but I am now more honest with myself, others and most importantly, God. I have struggled as I have watched others, even those closest to my rabbi, move into a space that contained peace, praise, hope and joy. I have been jealous and desperately wanted to experience that, whilst also missing the key part of letting God and others bless me with that. So through this task of writing this blog, I have been reflecting on those times that God and His people have been seeking to bless me with peace, praise, hope and joy. I am now in a space where retrospectively I can accept that. So today has been a turning point. I am not there yet, but now, when I hear myself say

Why, my soul, are you downcast?
    Why so disturbed within me?

I can respond with

Put your hope in God,
    for I will yet praise him,
    my Savior and my God.