Oh God, I feel as if I were at times as Saul--the jaded angry king who can do no right thing, young usurper looking over my shoulder, satan ever handy with a vial of hemlock, so quick to tip it into my ear. Oh how music to soothe!
Work has been arduous lately. The past eighteen months have taxed me; one set of demands after another, escalating ad nauseum, moment after moment of apology, scrambling, scuttlebutt.
I make a sincere effort to be a husband and father when I am home, but most of the time I just feel fatigued. From work at work and more at home, and Saul creeps along the floorboards of my heart, occupying more space than David; calmed so strangely.
I know I sound cliche, even mundane. Millions have gone before me, spending their lives working at things they don't want to do. They worked and felt the waxing shadow of a spectre over their shoulder, felt the weight of a poised axehead above their heads and yet pressed on. Why should I be any different? Why should I feel I deserve more than they?
David played the lyre and Saul was comforted. David turned to God and Saul was angry.
I find myself seeking silent moments more often. I thank you for this God. I have been trying to speak less and listen more without interrupting the other speaker. Weighing their words not just for my own rebuttal, but for merits sake. I bite my tongue more, and the smart is not so great. Please take from me the bitten remark, the swallowed pride, the suppressed opine.
Perhaps oh Lord thou will make me more humble yet. I ask that my anger be drained away and a peace be there in it's stead. That my restless heart be calmed, my ear so filled be able to pick out the simple strains of wind in the pine boughs, the call of a meadowlark, the whisper of sun on my face and shoulders and hands.
Take this from me oh God, these threatening moments of despair. I give them to you. Take from me the thoughts of bleakness. Instead plant in me a hope for a better day. Take this slump from my shoulders. Make my back as a rod of iron. Take from me these downcast eyes. Fix my sight on the brazen serpent, my heart upon the treasures of heaven, my feet upon the straight and narrow way. Take from me this lonely stool. Set a chair at thy table, even a lowly one in an outer room, and pleased I'll rest in thy house.
Oh Lord make me a young David and not a Saul. Take my heart and whisper to it through the fire; and comfort me as I am fashioned form ore to gold. Selah