Preliminary notes on this piece:
- Like many a biblical psalm, this one comes from a place of exhaustion and defeat. I’ve been over it again and again in my mind, wondering if it’s too despairing and pathetic to share, but I’ve concluded I will share it since the best and most effective pieces are the most vulnerable. If it’s not your cup of tea, feel free to scroll on. But I hope it will serve a similar purpose to the Psalms in the sense that although it appears haunting when you’re feeling joyful and hopeful, it’s the perfect piece to sit with you when you’re at your lowest, one that makes you say, “This person understands how I feel. I don’t have to pretend I’ve got it all together or that I even know where I’m going from here.” I felt foolish, hopeless, and exhausted when I wrote it, and I hope that if you’re feeling the same way, it offers companionship or even comfort.
- Historians can’t seem to agree on the meaning of the word “Selah,” which often appears in the biblical Psalms. Its roots suggest it may be a musical notation signifying either a rest or a rise in the music, while it is also related to words for “to lift up, to exalt” or even “forever.” This ambiguity suits the place where I am in my life and career. Am I called to stop or press on? Is this a momentary rest or is this what my life looks like from now on? I use Selah at the end of a phrase like in the Psalms, and it has come to feel like a declaration of “even so.” Whether I am pious enough to have placed my faith in God’s plan or am simply practicing radical acceptance, I cannot tell, but it feels like a prayer, and the acknowledgment of my situation offers a much-needed peace.
I call out to you, Lord,
In this place where I am neither writing enough to be a full-time author nor working enough hours to be a part-time librarian, Selah;
Where I am neither established enough as an author to make a living nor making enough money to live on at my day job, Selah;
Where I am both doubtful of future success and numb to my previous accomplishments, Selah;
Where I have thrown away a promising career to achieve a dubious dream, Selah;
Where I am single as a Pringle when my castle in the air was founded upon a fiction career, a husband, and children, Selah;
Where my family still has faith in me but I’m so uncertain whether I’ll fail them that it fills me with nothing but guilt, Selah;
When I’ve chosen this life, but I don’t know whether this life has chosen me, Selah;
When the brilliant colors of my thoughts have muddied together into an uninspiring greige, Selah;
When in the midst of other writers, creators, dreamers, believers, lovers, aspirers, and achievers, I feel so desperately alone, Selah;
Where I stare Death in the eye and know not whether it is from across decades of toil or a single moment of surprise, Selah;
When I have so much to give and seem to possess a broken mailbox and an empty address book, Selah;
When I’ve left my Egypt and not yet seen my Promised Land, Selah;
When I’ve not yet tasted the manna or the quail and am desperately trying not to complain enough to earn 40 years of wandering in this desert, Selah;
While I lay out my sacrifices and those made on my behalf, waiting for the result as if for a verdict, Selah;
As I ask myself not whether I am a fool but whether I was meant to be one and whether it will answer in the end, Selah;
When I’ve learned enough to become an expert in my predicament but not in how to solve it, Selah;
When I haven’t given enough to achieve my dream but enough to be embarrassed if I don’t, Selah;
When the weight of all the people I will disappoint or who will shake their heads in pity if I fail becomes so heavy that I’d almost rather fail sooner rather than carry it any farther, Selah;
When my choice seems to be between a deathly life and a lively death, and I’ve cast the die, Selah;
When the truths told by those ahead of me are bitter, and I can offer no sweetness to anyone who comes after me, Selah;
When I may not have enough talent to succeed, but I definitely have enough to be a shame and a disappointment if I fail, Selah;
When I’ve given my life to light a flame that no one may ever see, Selah;
When I’m a disappointment to my father but not yet a worthy credit to my mother, Selah;
When I’ve made my last act of defiance to a life with no soul and have yet to learn whether it will be a triumph or a tragedy, Selah;
When the question is no longer what I will give my life to, but whether I will rest peacefully in my grave when I enter it, Selah;
When my attention and energy are expended in so many different directions that I can no longer stomach the smallest step forward, Selah;
When I’m not sure whether I’m bearing the weight of the world or this is what everyone goes through and I’m handling it exceptionally poorly, Selah;
When I don’t know whether I’m a voice of insight or a sniveling whine that cannot be forgotten soon enough, Selah;
When I don’t know whether God is calling me to move forward or to wait for either punishment or deliverance, Selah;
When I can’t think how to end this piece with a hopeful updraft, Selah;
Whatever I have left, I pour out.
God help me.
