The Dirt of Death

My strength is dried up like a piece of broken pottery.
My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth;
You’ve set me down in the dirt of death. --Psalm 22:15
 
No one who knows me would be surprised to hear that I would NOT call 2025 “my year”.  That’s not to say everything was bad. The 4 people in my house have been mostly healthy and thriving and we love each other and laugh together so often. I have so many dear friends and have had so many joyful moments here at Northbrook and in other parts of my life. BUT… my dad was diagnosed with brain, kidney, and lung cancer in late May, and it became a cloud over the year. He wasn’t in any pain, but he was scared and there were very noticeable differences in his abilities. We knew that any treatment was buying a small amount of time and so all plans became tentative or were made with a “well if Daddy is really sick or has passed” addendum. And after feeling “on hold” for a while, he went downhill rapidly and died early fall. That felt like enough for one year to me. Then the week before Christmas, I broke my pinky finger requiring surgery and 6 months of pins and a huge bandage protecting the pins. It’s a tiny finger in the grand scheme of things for sure, but it has been a literal pain (man does it hurt) and made everything just a little bit slower and more complicated. By the time I sat down to rest post-Christmas, I definitely felt like “the dirt of death.” 
 
This past year’s clouds aside, there have been many times in my life when I’ve felt my strength was dried up spiritually and emotionally – 7th grade when all of the girls in my class learned how to “mean girl,” my first year of teaching when I felt like I failed more than I succeeded, just before I became a children’s minister when I was stuck in a job that I hated and was sinking me into depression daily. We all have times when we GET the laments of David and Job. (And sometimes I even have days when I want to sit and wallow in their laments.)
 
Anytime I begin approaching the “dirt of death,” I turn to the Psalms. I find some pain and read it. I find my own hurt, pain, exhaustion, and anger there. But once I’ve done that, I also find my comfort, peace, encouragement, strength, and love there. I let my heart embrace the songs of David’s heart. I let myself swell with the beauty of his words to God and about God. I worship as he worships. I am renewed in his renewal. I can let my broken, dried-up, exhausted self dwell in the place of God.
 
How lovely is your dwelling place,
Lord Almighty!
My soul yearns, even faints,
for the courts of the Lord;
my heart and my flesh cry out for the living God.
Even the sparrow has found a home,
and the swallow a nest for herself,
where she may have her young--
a place near your altar,
Lord Almighty, my King and my God.
Blessed are those who dwell in your house;
they are ever praising you. --Psalm 84:1-4
 
How awesome that we serve a God who has a home for the sparrow, a nest for the swallow, and a dwelling place for the weary!
 
I pray that each of us can find time to dwell with God when we feel broken. I pray that we can find God and let God fix our broken pieces, shore-up or weakness, heal our pain, and strengthen our souls. I pray that we will always find ourselves yearning, even fainting for God so that he can always renew us.
 
May we be ever praising,

Leslie Bowers
Director of Creative Services