Flood
Rain, rain on my face
It hasn’t stopped raining for days
My world is a flood
Slowly I become one with the mud
But if I can’t swim after forty days
and my mind is crushed by the thrashing waves
Lift me up so high that I cannot fall
Lift me up
Lift me up – when I’m falling
Lift me up – I’m weak and I’m dying
Lift me up – I need you to hold me
Lift me up – Keep me from drowning again
Downpour on my soul
Splashing in the ocean, I’m losing control
Dark sky all around
I can’t feel my feet touching the ground
Calm the storms that drench my eyes
Dry the streams still flowing
Cast down all the waves of sin
And guilt that overthrow me
(Jars of Clay, Flood)
To be honest, I never really understood this song. Something about rain and drowning and it probably had something to do with Noah. But it had a good rhythm.
But alas, the Lord sees fit to open our eyes and hearts when we are ready, and not before, and so after a week of sin and constant spiritual attack; I am becoming accountable that the words I say indeed prove that I am a fool, and that they hurt and tear down instead of build up; that I have become selfish, hunting for laughter to build my pride while sacrificing my brothers and sisters; discovering a title for the gospel that I have known and love happens to begin with “Calvin” and ends with “ism”; I feel so exhausted. Everywhere I see proof of my complete depravity and that, even though I wish not to, I still am a monster of iniquity.
And the problem of transgressing in a community that actually cares for the spiritual health of its family is that you cannot hide it away. No, almost instantly you must become accountable and take responsibility. And so a collection of brothers come up, praise the Lord for them!, to offer encouragement, love, and counsel to bring back to the Church the transgressor, that the Lord’s gift of repentance can be felt in His gift of Grace. The problem, or perhaps blessing, depending on which side of repentance you stand, of asking forgiveness, is that it is so danged humbling. And there is no escape.
A weeks worth of mistakes is alot to be accountable for, and at least to me, feels like an overwhelming flood of despair. And yet, Praise Jesus, the King of Kings has conquered my heart, and because He loves me, He sanctifies me. “For those whom He foreknew, He also predestined to become conformed to the image of His Son, so that He would be the firstborn among many brethren; and these whom He predestined, He also called; and these whom He called, He also justified; and these whom He justified, He also glorified” (Romans 8:29-30 NASB).
I can not imagine how a crime-stained worker of iniquity and the Just Creator of All Things can ever be forged together except for on the anvil of Jesus Christ, in which hope does not disappoint. And all imaginings of life without grace irresistible tend to become visions of Hell.
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Praise God, from Whom all blessings flow;
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Praise Him, all creatures here below;
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Praise Him above, ye Heavenly Host;
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Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.
Indeed, Amen.
