Parched Under a New Moon: A Cry for True Revival

Parched Under a New Moon: A Cry for True Revival

maybe i should call a shrink – get a prescription or something

it hasn’t been lengthy – not days, weeks or months

but it has been creeping up for some time

and the depth of the darkness is uncharted and frightening

disconnect and disintegration on every level

the extroverted initiator has no initiative left

the resilient gauge is on empty

there are those who seek to reassure me…

“You’re a good man, brother.” “You’re not a failure as a father.”

“You’re a gifted servant & preacher.” “You truly are a man of God.”

i’ve heard this and more, so…

it’s not that i’m void of outward affirmation

but it all goes thud

against the iron gates of a disoriented psyche

is this shallow, mediocre self-absorption - too much navel gazing?

or am i failing to deal with deeper matters?

“Failure” - that’s the millstone

moral, spiritual, financial, relational, vocational

the weight presses against my chest as i gasp for breath

damn, i’m tired of this treadmill

how many times – fatigue, frustration, sin and i’m down on my knees

confessing, relinquishing, crying out

rising - renewed, refreshed, forgiven, cleansed

here i am again, at the end of myself? - probably not

a friend’s 51 year old brother had a stroke last week (i’m 51)

suddenly weakened, paralyzed, anxious, helpless

after years of robust self-sufficiency

maybe my soul has had a stroke – a spiritual blood clot

hitting the cerebral cortex of my inner man

and if the joy of the Lord is my strength

it’s no wonder that i’m so weary

but where do i go for an energy boost?

counterfeit, charismatic crap on one side

arrogant, condescending, lifeless ritual on the other

“clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right…”

here i am, stuck in the middle with me

i know, i know, “it’s not about me” but i’m the only me i’ve got

and i think i need an extreme makeover

“I am exceedingly afflicted; revive me, O LORD, according to Thy word.”

“A joyful heart is good medicine, but a broken spirit dries up the bones.”

Lord, i thirst!

mark d. cooke, 9-3-08