I have wanted to write.

Over the last year the words have felt thick, stuck together like honey, making it impossible to separate them into a logical sentence.

A sputtering inspiration, fluttering out of reach as I grasp at it uselessly. My reading of the Word dry, verses that instantly vanish from memory.

What does one do when the vast scape of creativity suddenly becomes dark and indiscernible? What to do when the reading of God’s Word feels futile?

The world tells me to look inside and dig deep into the ether of my soul. It doesn’t work. I’ve tried it in the past, before I had learned better. All it does is stir up the silt, making the waters murky and swirl with more chaos the more I look in.

–

A single unfinished prayer has been on my lips these last months. Oh Lord… I lean on those two words, for they are all my weary heart can manage. Oh Lord, and I trust that He knows the rest. And there, in response to the words hanging in the air, I hear a hymn I recently discovered rise from the depths:

Jesus, lover of my soul,
let me to thy bosom fly,
while the nearer waters roll,
while the tempest still is high;
hide me, O my Savior, hide,
till the storm of life is past;
safe into the haven guide,
O receive my soul at last!

 Other refuge have I none;
hangs my helpless soul on thee;
leave, ah! leave me not alone,
still support and comfort me.
All my trust on thee is stayed,
all my help from thee I bring;
cover my defenseless head
with the shadow of thy wing.

Plenteous grace with thee is found,
grace to cover all my sin;
let the healing streams abound;
make and keep me pure within.
Thou of life the fountain art;
freely let me take of thee;
spring thou up within my heart,
rise to all eternity.

I find myself clinging to words written by another when my own hands can’t find what to write. My heart sings hymns of truth while my mind struggles to hold the Word. I need refuge, and the One who made all things offers it.

Hymns have found a special place for me this season. As I struggle through the mire of life, I find the words of hymns come readily to me, reminding me of Who I can run to. This season may be dry, and a constant fight to remain faithful and hold to Jesus, but I trust He will carry me through. The words will return to me in time, as they have in years past. The Word will become a delight to savour again, my prayers filled easily and fully. Until then, I will sing to God my Saviour.

“How precious is your steadfast love, O God! The children of mankind take refuge in the shadow of your wings.”
Psalm 36:7

I leave you with one other hymn I recently learned, called Come Ye Sinners, Poor and Needy:

Come, ye sinners, poor and needy,
weak and wounded, sick and sore;
Jesus ready stands to save you,
full of pity, love, and pow’r.

Come, ye thirsty, come, and welcome,
God’s free bounty glorify;
true belief and true repentance,
every grace that brings you nigh.

Come, ye weary, heavy laden,
lost and ruined by the fall;
if you tarry till you’re better,
you will never come at all.

Lo! th’incarnate God, ascended,
pleads the merit of His blood;
venture on Him, venture wholly;
let no other trust intrude.

I will arise and go to Jesus
He will embrace me in His arms
In the arms of my dear Savior
Oh, there are ten thousand charms