Ache

Lately, I've been listening to Sara Groves a lot, and, as usual, I keep coming back to just a few songs from the CD, playing them over and over, thinking about the lyrics, singing along. One of the songs that keeps speaking to me is "I Saw What I Saw." Here is the song and its video:



The lyrics that keep coming back to me are:

"I saw what I saw and I can't forget it;
I heard what I heard and I can't go back;
I know what I know and I can't deny it.

Something on the road, cut me to the soul."

When I think of those lyrics, they send me back to the words that Simeon spoke to Mary when he saw Jesus. Remember that the Holy Spirit had revealed to Simeon that Simeon would not die until he saw the Messiah, and, upon seeing Jesus, Simeon knew that the Holy Spirit had been faithful. Simeon knew that he had, in fact, seen the Savior, and he thanked God for this gift. But then Simeon spoke to Mary saying,

"This child is destined to cause the falling and rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be spoken against, so that the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed. And a sword will pierce your own soul too" (Luke 2:34-25).

I think of Simeon's words because it seems to me that when we have an experience with Jesus, we know that there may be pain, that our souls will be pierced and never remain the same. That our spirits will be changed. That what logic and reason had once spoken to us will be transformed by the understanding of the Spirit, the guidance and comfort given to us by Christ.

Sometimes, when I think about religion, the word that comes to my head is "ossified." I think of the ways in which our flesh and hearts turn to bone, become hardened over time and unreceptive to the fact that our souls should ache on seeing the pain of others, the fact that our hearts should feel a bit broken.

Or I think of how we can become hardened against belief, becoming distrustful of the ache inside our hearts and souls, acknowledging to ourselves that this hole in us needs to be filled but never knowing or acknowledging that we have a God-shaped hole that cannot be filled in any other way but through allowing God to enter the parts of our hearts we give no one else access too. Because, it is in those places that we most need the love that only God can give, the kind of love that cannot be taken back, the kind of love that never leaves us or forsakes us.

It is this kind of love that lets us know that it is safe for our hearts to break for ourselves and for others because we know that we have a heavenly Father who will comfort us in our pain, who will bind up our wounds. William Barclay paraphrases the second Beatitude as,

"O the bliss of the man whose heart is broken for the world's suffering and for his own sin, for out of his sorrow he will find the joy of God."

It is a pain of the heart and soul which acknowledges a need for God. And, even before that need is acknowledged, God is there waiting, waiting to offer us joy.

I guess I should say that, if I'm really honest, none of this would have made sense to me a while ago. In fact, I would have thought that the author of these words was a little strange. And, honestly, that's being kind. I probably would have dismissed this as a bunch of overly-religious ramblings that had nothing to do with me, but, as in the song, "Something on the road, cut me to the soul."