Troubled Bones

by Greg Grotewold

“OLORD, rebuke me not in your anger, nor discipline me in your wrath. Be gracious to me, O LORD, for I am languishing; heal me, O LORD, for my bones are troubled. My soul also is greatly troubled. But you, O LORD— how long? Turn, O LORD, deliver my life; save me for the sake of your steadfast love” (Psalm 6:1-4, ESV).

Life is hard—at times, really hard. A trial’s difficulty becomes particularly acute when well-intentioned efforts to overcome the challenges (or at least mitigate their influence) not only fail but in fact, exacerbate the problem. Such futility compounds the weariness felt, introducing a season of bewilderment. I’m in one of those seasons. Like David in his travails above, I too am languishing; my bones are troubled. And also, like David, I find myself crying out to the Lord, pleading for some display of His omnipotent goodness.

The broader context might be useful here. Though physically apart only twelve inches, an ocean of separation has formed between my mind (what I know to be true) and my heart (what I feel to be true). I know Jesus reigns. I know He is with me and desires to bless my efforts. I know He cares for me and has my best interest in mind. I know He will ultimately prevail, and so will I as a result. But Romans 8:28, a verse that has brought great comfort to me in the past, now feels hollow: “And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose” (ESV). I know that whatever trial comes my way will at some point benefit me. I know that intellectually, but it means little right now emotionally in the midst of my apparent failures. Timidity and worry have displaced any semblance of confidence and peace.

These burdens, as one would expect, have dominated my prayer time. The cadence has looked something like this:

How long Lord before you change either my circumstances or my ability to more effectively influence them? How long will my angst escape mediation? When will my head more fully inform my heart, releasing me from the weight of my weariness? When will I be able to maintain an element of joy regardless of life’s realities? When will my efforts produce tangible good? You promise to bless the humble but why then does my lowliness continue to go unanswered? Will regret be a constant companion until you take me home? When will I receive the rest you articulate in Matthew 11: “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” (28-30, ESV). Come, Lord Jesus, come. Show yourself and deliver me. Be gracious towards me and give this soul the peace only You can provide. I plead with You to act.

The petition is as varied in scope as the myriad of sentiments that drive it. It’s a complicated combination of intense lament and earnest appeal with a few droplets of hope lightly sprinkled amongst the mix. I’m thankful for those droplets though, however sparse. They keep me sane and serve as reminders that Jesus is a promise keeper. He will intervene.

As my pastor recently reminded me, God isn’t angered by raw transparency such as mine. He certainly wasn’t with David’s. After all, the Lord had the Psalms canonized as part of Scripture for everyone to see. Not only is He not upset, He actually wants me to approach Him. Jesus desires that I pursue Him and put words to my angst, regardless of how untamed and messy they might be. Because when I do, I’m signaling something very important. In the midst of great trial, my greatest need is Him.

The Lord can handle anything we might throw at Him. If your bones are troubled, plead with Jesus for His intervention. Go to Him and pour out your heart. I pray He will deliver both of us from our present weariness.

About The Author Greg Grotewold lives in Oakdale, MN, with his wife, Sandi, and their two sons, Luke and Eli. He is a deacon in his local church and greatly enjoys serving in this capacity.