Broken Praise

Rough week.

Rough when the phone spits out the news that strikes fear in your heart.  Leaving you cold and crying in the underwear aisle of a department store.

And more news.

News that forces you to have to explain to your little boys that another little boy has to crawl into a hospital bed instead of running off to school today.

News that includes words like cancer… and cysts… and more cancer… and… and I sigh.  And I cry.

I try hard.  Lord knows I try hard to stay positive… focused on His power… walking on the water… but children facing uncertainties and a widow still grieving the loss of his death, now grieving the loss of her health cuts me to the core… and I weep.

But He calls to me, knowing I am empty… tired… struggling to hold on to hope.  And He reminds me that there were others - others who found themselves sitting by the rivers of Babylon, weeping when they remembered all they had lost.  They hung their harps on the willows, wondering how they could sing in this new and foreign land.

And through their captivity, He captures my attention… for praise is beautiful no matter how broken it's condition.  And in His words there is healing and hope.  And faith is renewed.  And I lift empty hands to the heavens.  Hands that hold nothing at all… by my broken praise.

How can I stand here and sing
How can I lift up my hands?
How can I give you my heart
When all that I know has been torn all apart

How can I give you my song
How can I lay this all down
What beauty can there be found
In this broken praise?

Wrecked by your love
Emptied of self
Remembering all You have done
I rest secure
Knowing Jesus, You're here
And I give You all I have left

Empty hands lifted high
Holding nothing at all
Holding nothing
But this broken praise.