"...and my heart burdened be..."

"When I am down, and oh my soul, so weary.
When troubles come, and my heart burdened be.
Then I am still and wait here in the silence.
Until You come and sit awhile with me..."

My heart was burdened this morning.  Overwhelmed beyond measure.  I thought I could push through the tightness in my shoulders, the strain in my step...so I read, studied, took calls, prayed, checked in on my Facebook office, and posted an inspiring quote by Mary Baker Eddy that had meant so much to me through a long night of prayer. And lastly, I'd uploaded a Youtube video I'd been led to view earlier by a thoughtful friend. But the personal pall persisted. My husband remained a gentle, willing support, but even he knew...what I had yet to discover in the midst of such heaviness...that what I needed to hear, whatever it was that I needed to hear, had to come directly from God...and from God, alone.

The work...the joy of serving...was my peaceful resting place.  In "the office" it was all so clear.  Inspired truths that felt so alive and substantive in praying for others, were warm companions and reliable colleagues there, in the sanctuary of books, and prayers, and gratitude..  In the fellowship of our common purpose, all was light. But whenever I seemed to get up from my desk, walk out of my "praying for others" door, and into the space of "my life, my family, my decisions," those truths somehow felt distant and flat, like two dimensional cardboard cutouts of superheroes. 

And, as much as I established my spiritual ground, and claimed that God was in charge of all the affairs of my life and the lives of those I loved, I still felt something akin to a cold, gray, stone of sorrow resting on my heart.  Too many questions, decisions, choices, demands. I didn't even know where to begin in sorting them out, and prioritizing all that needed to be addressed metaphysically.  Where should I start listening for direction, first?  What should I pray about next? 

The clarity I felt "in the office" seemed to be spectre-like, just out of reach, and ungraspable in my kitchen. 

That was where this Youtube clip of Selah's "You Raise Me Up" found me...in the kitchen.  The kettle was whistling and I'd gotten up to steep a pot of tea, when I heard the next clip in the Selah playlist coming from my office.  I poured boiling water over the Ginger Peach tea in the teapot, and returned to my desk while it steeped.  And that's when I heard:

"...You raise me up to walk on stormy seas.
I am strong when I am on your shoulders.
You raise me up to more than I can be..."

And, as Mary Baker Eddy says:

"Tears flood the eyes, agony struggles, pride rebels, and a mortal seems a monster, a dark, impenetrable cloud of error; and falling on the bended knee of prayer, humble before God, he cries, "Save, or I perish." Thus Truth, searching the heart, neutralizes and destroys error."

I fell on my knees beside my bed, letting my tears dissolve the false veneer of control, to shake and shatter the shell of personal sense...me, my, mine...allowing it to fall in shards of vanquished "self" from the core "me", the innocent and willing "I AM" within my heart...and:

"listened for His voice
lest my footsteps stray.."

And when:

"My heart bent low before the omnipotence of Spirit, ...a tint of humility, soft as the heart of a moonbeam, mantled the earth.  Bethlehem and Bethany, Gethsemane and Calvary, spoke to my chastened sense as by the tearful lips of a babe.  Frozen fountains were unsealed.  Erudite systems of philosophy and religion melted, for Love unveiled the healing promise and potency of a present spiritual afflatus."  - Eddy

In that moment of divine care, my tears changed from the hot, aching sting of want and woe, to the gentle bathing waters of promised peace.

I'd asked God for answers about things that were in the realm of tomorrow, down-the-road, and someday when...and his message was:

"I cannot give you tomorrow, I can only give you Myself, and you know Me, you know that My name is I AM, not 'I will be,' or 'I was.' I am giving you this very moment on your knees with Me, I am giving you today...and isn't today beautiful?  Don't you have all you need...every answer you are hungering for...for today?"

And the heavy stone of carrying around a burdened ego was lifted from my shoulders, and replaced with humility, "as soft as a moonbeam."

I got up from that blessed posture of "on my knees," grateful for every tear that had fallen, and dried in salty trails upon flushed cheeks.  I'd been given a glimpse, a window, a portal into the living power of a simple statement of spiritual fact...the very quote I'd prayed with all night long, for someone else in need, and had posted earlier on Facebook:

"Each successive period of progress
is a period more humane and spiritual."
-     Mary Baker Eddy

I rose from "on bended knee" with a more humane sense of my brothers' (and sisters') journeys. With a very here-and-now appreciation for Bethany, Bethlehem, Gethsemane, and Calvary...oh yes, especially for Calvary. And with a more spiritual sense of the power of The Word...a present understanding of my Father's love for me, and mine, and most importantly, for all.

He is, constantly, raising each of us up...from our knees...so that we can go forward in service to one another, and thereby serve Him.

otherwise, I remain, on bended knee...yours,

Kate
Kate Robertson, CS