add no pain

Brimming reservoirs  have grown weary of accepting offerings from storm clouds. Roiling waters seek escape; the dam holds firm.

Time passes.  A small leak springs.  Surely there is no harm in seepage?  Alas, seepage  begets weakness in the dam. Fragile, shaky barriers begin to crumble and then give way completely;  the torrent is unleashed.

Critical words with sharp edges cut the silence.  Perceived wrongs are recounted with indignation. Indignation works itself into anger.  In the anger the face of pain is hidden.  Disgorging has begun and it cannot be stopped.

The Psalmist surely knew of what he spoke when he said, Set a guard, O LORD, over my mouth; keep watch over the door of my lips!  Psalm 141:3

Torrents of jumbled, crashing words have escaped their guard and now mingle with a legion of like-minded words in a bottomless universal cistern.  These are not aloe words of edifying, encouraging, or giving of grace. Rather, it is the giving of a cup of vinegar.   Unwitting, these runaway words swell  the cosmic pool of human anguish.  Better left unsaid, but yet the need to speak them is great.  Can one burst if words are left unsaid?

I think of my Father when I feel near to bursting. I am told I make Him glad when I enter His gates with thanksgiving in my heart and into His courts with praise, but what about the unspoken words that must be said?

Courts are the outer rooms of His house…… If I enter them with praise, can I proceed further in?  Is there a secluded room within His house where the torrent can be unleashed?  Is it safe to tell my Father all that I am thinking?  Before I move in that direction I need to know… will there be carpet in that room?

The Dwight sanctuary, new and beautiful, almost ready to welcome eager worshippers, awaits the laying down of carpet. Words in that space echo crazily, bouncing from floor to ceiling, wall to wall.  The cacophony produced by ordinary words confuses, even hurts the listener.  My husband, pastor-physicist, teaches me that sound bounces off hard services.  Sound is energy and must go somewhere. The hard walls, ceiling, and floor can only absorb a small amount of the sound.  The carpet, when it is laid, soft and accepting, will absorb much of the discordant noise.

I am learning that God is like carpet.  Absorbing cries of pain, tears of sorrow, restless anger, angst in a soul.  Almighty God, soft enough to absorb hard edges of  piercing-like-a-sword words and not be wounded.

God is soft, but He is not weak and He is not silent.  His Book is His speaking. He teaches proper response after the telling of our troubles.    Heart-troubling resentments are safely poured out at His feet, but He does not let us rest easy with anger. He cries when we cry, wipes our eyes and pushes us on.  With patience He hears our complaints against others, and then gives new eyes that see from the other side.

Loved ones are the carpetless walls, floors, and ceilings of our lives.  Although they love, the capacity to absorb pain, expressed in our speaking, is limited. When the dammed up words of all that is wrong in life must escape our lips, direct them to the ears of the One who is able and willing to absorb them.  Add no pain to the pool of sorrow in the world.

Linger long in the inner room and learn to listen to His voice.  He has much to say in response to the breached dam.  Allow Him to lead you to the still waters.  His Words restore our souls.