I have felt out of control of my life for several months. On the surface, things are plodding along as normal, but not so deep below, I feel like a frenetic mess. I've felt like I couldn't get a hold of things at work. I've felt like I couldn't get my eyes to fall on a single book for any length of time. I've felt like I can't keep my closet organized. I can't keep my desk clean. I can't stay on top of my budget. I can't make all of the necessary phone calls. I can't keep in touch with the people I love. I can't communicate without coming off as a cynical expletive expletive expletive. And I can't sleep.
It's frustrating and wearing and it's making me sick, emotionally if not also physically. But all hope is not lost. Even in my most brutally cynical of moments, the hope still has a strong descant voice.
I've been slowly reading Isaiah. Very extremely slowly. Chewing and pondering the situation of the Israelites and the Judeans. They were out of control, too. But even in the harshest of condemnations to the people, Isaiah sings a poetic hope over top of the doom.
You will say in that day: "I will give thanks to you, O Lord, for though you were angry with me, your anger turned away, that you might comfort me." Isaiah 12:1
There are many things that cause our Lord great anger with me. Many of those things listed above, not excluded is my need to control those things listed above. But our Lord turns away from his anger; our Lord chooses to bring comfort, peace, hope.