Trauma Patchwork

It's been over a month since I was caught up in the attacks on the beach at Grand Bassam on March 13, 2016.

The healing process has been long and slow. For me, it has been a jumble of verses, psalms and songs that God has sent me or brought to mind. I have clung to them and dwelt in them. And the Lord has woven them into a patchwork quilt to keep cover me and keep me dry from the waves and storm.

The Lord reminded me of this verse during the events.
The picture is one I took a few weeks before the attacks. 

Ready for the Storm

by Dougie MacLean (Made popular by Rich Mullins)

The waves crash in and the tide tide pulls out
It's an angry sea but there is no doubt
That the lighthouse will keep shining out To warn the lonely sailor
And the lightning strikes and the wind cuts cold Through the sailor's bones to the sailor's soul
Till there's nothing left that he can hold Except the rolling ocean

But I am ready for the storm, yes sir ready
I am ready for the storm, I'm ready for the storm

Distance it is no real friend And time will take its time
And you will find that in the end It brings you me, the lonely sailor
And when you take me by your side You love me warm, you love me
And I should have realized I had no reason to be frightened

But I am ready for the storm, yes sir ready
I am ready for the storm, I'm ready for the storm

"Ready for the Storm" became the framework and refrain for the lament that I wrote about what we experienced:

It’s shooting outside
And the waves crash in.
Am I ready for the storm
If the waves flood through the door?

Down in the Lowlands (Charlie Peacock)

One of my favorite albums of all time is Russ Taff's self-titled album from 1987, which obviously was born out of some sort of "dark night of the soul". I immediately gravitated back to "Down in the Lowlands" because of the water imagery and the words that cry out from Psalm 69.

The water is up to my neck; I'm sinking in the deep,
There is no foothold to be found anywhere,
I'm very worn out from calling for help,
My throat is hoarse, and dry as a bone,
My eyes, they fail me from looking for you,
Are you looking for me?

Down in the lowlands, where the water is deep,
Hear my cry, hear my shout,
Save me, save me,
Down in the lowlands, where the water is deep,
Hear my cry, hear my shout,
Save me, save me.

Could this be it?
Could I be drowning?
Have I failed to be heard by the only one who can save me? (save me, save me)
Show me some mercy, and touch me again,
Please lift me up above where I am.

I Cannot Tell

A week after the attack, a friend loaned me a keyboard and I started playing old hymns and choruses. This one jumped out and ministered to me, especially the second verse, made poignant by the fact that we were coming up to Passion Week.

A verse from my Sabbatical Time in Kansas City. 

I cannot tell how silently He suffered,
As with His peace He graced this place of tears,
Or how His heart upon the Cross was broken,
The crown of pain to three and thirty years.

But this I know, He heals the broken-hearted,
And stays our sin, and calms our lurking fear,
And lifts the burden from the heavy laden,
For yet the Savior, Savior of the world, is here.

Psalm 124 - What if the Lord had not been on our side?

About a week into this, someone shared Psalm 124 and it really seemed like the entire chapter had been written for us!

It was easy to see God's hand in saving us. But harder to reconcile all the questions that it raised. Why does God allow suffering? Why are some spared and others not? Is my faith just a house of cards, as CS Lewis observes in "A Grief Observed"?

"Why is he so present a commander in our time of prosperity and so very absent a help in time of trouble? Not that I am... In much danger of ceasing to believe in God. The real danger is of coming to believe such dreadful things about him. " (Lewis, p. 8)

The Psalms with their questions, accusations and statements of faith
all mixed together were a great source of comfort and the idea that there was hope that I WILL YET PRAISE HIM!

The questions are unchanged
The cry remains the same
I pray You'll lift me higher; Face to face with who I am
Higher - Above the myths that make the man
Higher - Please hold on to me

Russ Taff, Higher  

I Still Believe
by Michael Been of the Call, as recorded by Russ Taff

I've been out in a cave

For forty days 

With only a spark

To light my way
But I still believe. . .

I'll march this road
And I'll climb this hill
Upon my knees
If I have to

I still believe
I must believe
You can't take that away from me
I still believe.

Hold on to me. I must believe. Bring me into a spacious place.