Between a Rock and a Hard Place

Life has a nasty habit of throwing unexpected and seemingly debilitating curveballs our way. As a person of faith, I like to believe in my reliance on God’s strength to endure anything life throws at me. But when the initial punch lands, I often discover just how inadequate my faith feels.

Deep down, I know God is with me, but when adversity strikes, my vision blurs like anyone else’s. Recently, my stepson started college. Understatement doesn’t begin to describe how much he was missed before he even moved into his own apartment. I was tasked with transforming his room into a space for the rest of the family. This would have been challenging under normal circumstances, but today was different.

I was just a few days into processing some devastating news I never expected when the emotional dam broke. The house was empty, and I was alone with my thoughts. I sat down and leaned against the wall, and as my mind replayed the recent events as they had unfolded, my heart slowly began to unravel within my chest. At forty-six, I can honestly say that I’ve never felt more alone.

Nothing would ever be the same. I was feeling a depth of pain I couldn’t have imagined and experiencing the first waves of a brokenness I could never have understood before. I’m not ashamed to say that I cried. I cried so hard my head hurt, my stomach churned, and eventually no sound would come out of my throat. A silent convulsive meltdown. (It was not pretty) While my stepson was embarking on an exciting new chapter of independence, I was being violently thrust into a nightmare.

I had no one I wanted to bother with my pain in that in that moment. How do you even begin that conversation anyway? “Hey, a few days ago, I learned…” I have a wide circle of acquaintances, but only a few true confidants. So, I huddled alone, pleading with God to make it all a bad dream. But there was no divine intervention, only silence and pain.

I angrily scooped up a pile of left over belongings and something fell from the pile and hit my toe with a heavy, and painful thud.

It was a painted rock that had been found by one of the kids in a parking lot landscape back in 2016. The rock was a muddled blue with the words painted in brilliant white. “You’re never alone. Psalm 121”

Such a simple object, but the message was profound: “You’re never alone." It was a tangible reminder of God’s presence, a flicker of hope in the darkness.

I had to stop working and look up this psalm in its entirety.

“I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth. He will not suffer thy foot to be moved: he that keepeth thee will not slumber. Behold, he that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep. The Lord is thy keeper: the Lord is thy shade upon thy right hand. The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night. The Lord shall preserve thee from all evil: he shall preserve thy soul. The Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth, and even for evermore.”

~ Psalms 121:1-8 

This psalm is known as a Song of Ascent. The ancient Israelites understood this feeling. As they trekked towards Jerusalem, their hearts heavy with hopes and fears, they sang the Songs of Ascent. These were more than just songs; they were communal prayers, a way to share burdens and find strength in unity. Psalm 121 epitomizes this shared experience.

Life's a long road, full of twists and turns. Sometimes, the journey feels endless, and the weight of the world seems to press down on us. It's in these moments of deepest darkness that we crave connection, the assurance that we're not alone.

It's like being lost in a dense forest, surrounded by shadows. Fear creeps in, whispering doubts about finding your way out. But then you hear a familiar voice, a reminder that you’re not alone. That’s what Psalm 121 offers—a beacon of hope in the darkest woods. It tells us that the same God who created the vast universe is also watching over our tiny, individual journeys.

Just as those ancient pilgrims found solace in their shared faith, we too can find comfort in the collective human experience. We're all on this road together, facing our own mountains and valleys. Sharing our stories, fears, and hopes can illuminate the path forward.

The Songs of Ascent are more than just old texts; they are timeless companions on life's journey. They remind us that even in the toughest times, we're never truly alone. We are part of a larger story, connected to something bigger than ourselves.

I don't know where this post might find you in this moment, but if it's a season of pain and darkness, let me "scootch on over" (That is Midwestern for "move over a bit") and invite you to share this part of the bedroom wall and floor with me. 

We can grieve together for things that are no longer and will no longer be, cry over the unfairness of our situations, the cruelness of others, and anything else we may want to grieve.

Then, hold out your hand. I want to give you something that hit my toe and my heart at the same time, and together we can find solace in the understanding that everyone faces challenges.

Remember, even amidst the storm, there is strength in community, and we are never alone.

~Daniel