revive me, O Lord.

I’ve been feeling and seeing God lately.

I literally have been feeling him shove mounds of hope into my heart, into my soul, as if they are physical spaces. It feels complete and whole and warm. My cup overflowing. I almost feel as if there is light shining within me, beams breaking and moving outwards. Can’t anyone else see this? Its surreal, indeed supernatural.

I haven’t experienced anything crazy or out-of-the-ordinary, like a direct vision from him or seeing him in person or hearing his voice loud and audible like the thunder and clouds circling around Moses. But I have been seeing him move through people to move towards me in his incredible love and mercy. He loves to use people, especially the ones that I love and even least expect to be used. Through his people, he’s conducted his electric and powerful love to me within this circuit to re-energize me, to give me hope, an abundance overflowing.

Friends, I did not see these things or feel this way a few days ago.
This is honesty—
This is reality—

Let’s rewind time.

3 days ago.
I am laying in my bed, unmovable and have no desire to do so. Roommates come to comfort me, and I send them away with a small whisper of thanks. Inside me though, they can’t see and no one can see how much anger I truly have. Everything within me wants to rage, wants to scream. Every cell–cancerous or not—wants to leap out from within me to escape and is exhausted in their attempts to do so. I want to escape so badly. I thought I had understood the hearts of the psalmists, their woes and wailing, but in that moment I heard myself wail. Turning, facing the wall that acts as my bed’s headboard–my own wailing wall—screaming, sobbing into my pillow.

“God, why don’t you just kill me?!”

I feel like I’ve been stripped of all personhood, of what defines you as a human:
I’m not going to be working.
My relationships with people have been changing, shifting.
My roles in my church I feel have been shaken up.

What I do, what makes me me has been thwarted, changed, even some destroyed by cells that want to revolt. They are revolting against my very life. In that moment, they were winning.

“I’m never going to get married!”
“I fought so hard for a real job, and as I’m training it’s being taken a way from me!”
“Why would you place me in positions of leadership if you knew this was going to happen to me?!”

“I can never do anything normal, be a normal person without being interrupted every 5 years by cancer!”

“I’m not a person and will never be!”

“God, for what possible reason do you keep me here?”

“God, why don’t you just kill me?!”


I am now sprawled on the bathroom floor, roommates earlier banished now surrounding me, cocooning me, incubating me in their warm, warm love.

“These are all lies,” one of them said.

I know I have to fight against these lies, the spiritual battle real. Enemy cells from within, and lies coming from outside of myself invading inward. How do you battle those?

In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans. And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for God’s people in accordance with the will of God” Romans 8.26-27

I can’t even tell Him. I can barely tell Him all these things, thoughts in general. So surreal to feel your spirit in wordless groans communicate to him: “God, my faith is even smaller than a muster seed. Can’t you see that? I don’t even know where it is at, if it is so small that it doesn’t even exist. If it’s there, revive me in your mercy.”  

Have mercy! Revive me.
Have mercy! Revive me has been my prayer, my wordless groan. 

He has been resuscitating me with his love through other people. Bringing me in to conversations that were so intricately placed for me at the right time and moment. Having people initiate with me at the right time and moment. I could not have planned these moments, these moments that fed me love and made my hands feel warm as I open to receive. I am really, truly precious to Him and he thinks of me, me individually and what I need. Oh loving-kindness, oh mercy. You think I would have understood this by now, but it as if I am clinging to this truth and understanding it for the first time, swallowing truth-sustance whole. His care for the sparrows are there, this is true, and I’m now the broken bird being fed distinct, specific nourishment from Him through other people.

Gratitude, gratitude.
Mercy, mercy.
Love, love.
Hope, hope.

This is my psalm.
Continue to revive me, O Lord.




One thought on “revive me, O Lord.

  1. I love you Jenna. I’m so incredibly thankful that you have the Lord to sustain you, teach you, comfort you and One who is okay and loves the fact that you are weeping at His feet so He can supernaturally send his love to His precious child Jenna. He is amazing!


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