"...the things we feel most deeply we ought to learn to be silent about, at least until we have talked them over thoroughly with God..." e. elliot
I dare say how thankful I am for journals and I must apologize before hand at how irritatingly vague this post may be. There is inside me a clamoring cry to share my current disposition; an almost insatiable call to verbalization. My journal would attest to this, as it is nearly finished; I write incessantly now. More so than usual. Why? For I simply cannot go anywhere else. I dare not speak some things into existence; they simply must remain written there. The words of my heart scribbled on pages and pages and pages.
Such an odd feeling. To have so much to say; to feel your insides being pulled this way and that and prudence prevents it's declaration. Do you ever feel like there is so much feeling in you that you'll burst? So many thoughts and emotions; Each, simultaneously, demanding a stage and an audience; all rushing the gates, all clogging up the drain, all attempting escape through a door ten times too small?
Now I find myself thanking the Lord for Himself. For if it weren't for Him and His listening ear I simply would die in misery. The trembling burden of silence set to crush me.
It is not a mournful thing. Though I feel something very close to sadness... it isn't sadness, is it really? It's more like, depth; weight; rawness and reality. I can't explain it. It's as though a deepness in me is being revealed. It makes me nauseous as much as it thrills me.
"The Lord will fight for you while you keep silent." Exodus 14:14
