Back to Black

Our black lab sits by my swing, panting in the warm autumn sun. Black soaks up the sun, I tell my curious daughter. That's why she's hot.

And then it hits me. What if black soaks up the Son?

Over the past few days, my sin has been pummeling me like an attacker with a baseball bat. I know who wields the bat and thought up this beating - Satan. But my part in it is paralyzing. I did those sins that haunt me now.

Wave after wave hits me, and I know exactly what God is asking me to do in allowing this pain back into my life. He wants me to confess some very specific things to some very specific people. This is so hard. I would rather heal in the dark, by myself, locked in myself. I don't want to open up my storm-battered heart to others because I am so afraid of the next blow.


But recovery is like the morning sun just kissing the maple hill, a glimpse of what and who I could really be if I go free from this torment of years gone by.



Like the lone golden leaf in a sea of wet rocks, yellow against black, a glimpse again of the beauty that I hold within right alongside those stinking sins.


My world is peopled, not silent. I have to engage to be part of this life. What if going free from my past sins means my daughters will never do them? What if I allow God to reshape my black heart into a mural of His glory?


I believe He allows Satan to pummel us so that we are brought to the place on our knees, tear-stained faces contorted and starving for His mercy. I so desperately want the connection with Him to grow stronger until we are two beings pulsing on the same wavelength. What if the blackest of hearts is the one who appreciates most the gift of His scarlet blood making us white as snow?



I came here tonight with a mission
To confess what I'm trying to hide 
But here in the hour of decision 
I'd rather give you the company line 

There are secrets I don't want to tell you 
And wounds you might not want to see 
But they keep me bound to my sorrow 
And I really want to be free 
And you're the one holding the key

You don't have to give me an answer 
An answer is the last thing I need 
There's no magical cure for this cancer 
I just need you to listen me 
'Cause you're the one holding the key 

We were made with these hearts 
Meant to be open 
Then we locked them away 
Afraid of being broken 
But we're given each other to set it free 
And you're the one holding the key 

This dark room is perfect for hiding 
But I don't want to hide anymore 
You can't force the light here inside it 
But you can help me open the door 
You're the one holding the key 

We were made with these hearts 
Meant to be open 
Then we locked them away 
Afraid of being broken 
But we're given each other to set it free 
And you're the one holding
The key to the truth 
Of what's really going on 
Your listening ear 
Is the grace of God 
Love will take the shackles off 
But you're the one holding the key 

We all need it sooner or later 
A safe place for telling the truth 
I'm happy returning the favor 
'Cause I'm holding the key for you
~Jason Gray, Holding the Key~

1 comment:

Lisa notes... said...

"What if black soaks up the Son?"

Oh my. I could hardly make it past this insight. Love it! Thank you for sharing the story and for sharing the lyrics. (I need to listen to more of Jason Gray.)

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