Modern Day Psalm Writing

“Kelly, do you write any psalms?”

I answered “no” that day, but not long after my Community Bible Study coordinator asked me this, while writing in my journal I realized I do, indeed, write psalms; I just didn’t call them that. A simple seed was planted that day. Now, I’m revisiting many of my journal pages and pulling inspiration from real-time to turn my laments, praises, thanksgiving, and wisdom gained on this journey through our family’s long-suffering into my collection of modern day psalms. As such, they are extremely personal and in the most delightful way, I found the process of writing them to be effective tools - balm for a weary soul, weapons to combat dark thoughts, worship to help distract from the pain of the days and change heart postures to gratitude, Ebenezers as reminders of God’s goodness through the storms, and, perhaps one of the most surprising outcomes, has been feeling (more) seen and heard by my Heavenly Father, even when I know my prayers are treated the same, if not more precious, as these written and shared words.

My psalms are my melodies.

My grandparents were preachers and as a little girl, I had the wonderful opportunity to observe what it’s like to have an intimate relationship with the Lord through their very robust prayer life. When my brother and I would spend the night at their house, we’d giggle as we’d peek around the corner of their bedroom at night to observe and listen as they poured their hearts out to the Lord while on their knees by their bed. They’d both pray aloud at the same time, unaware and unaffected by the other, yet both of their prayers took on a shared cadence, a rise and fall, a fast and slow, a gentle and forceful rhythm that varied like the prayer requests they were lifting. We laughed because of the hilarity of the scene, but it was undeniable how very present the Lord felt in that room every night. It was undeniable the faith my grandparents had, the trust they placed in their Lord that those prayers would be answered. It was undeniable that their prayers were their melodies. I imagine the Lord delights in hearing our prayers as melodies -

These psalms, though written on the page, release from my heart in the form of a melody, much like how I imagine many of the original psalms were first shared, much like how I remember Frank and Pauline releasing the psalms on their heart every night on their knees by their bed.

Psalm 1: My Foes

Father God, I know how it feels

when I’m not walking in step with you;

an unprotected heart

is like an unlocked door to a home

in a bad neighborhood –

the tiniest crack in the door

is all a little darkness needs to creep in,

and like a strong breeze, a little darkness

pushes its way in forcefully,

widening the doorway

so all of its friends can come in, too;

jealousy, judgment, envy, discontent –

subtle, sneaky foes who call themselves friends

because they know the door is open,

and they believe they are welcome.

They have the audacity to

rob all of the treasure inside,

deface the premises, and

tell you they’ll be back,

just watch, just wait.

O Father, let me not be like them,

pushing doors open

and raiding and robbing all that is good

in the dwelling place

where you are found.

Let me not be destructive to myself in this way.

And let me not leave my doors unlocked.

Let my treasure’s value be so undeniable,

I protect it all costs.

Father, help me keep my treasure safe

From the foes that want to rob it.

O, Lord, to walk in step with you

is all my heart desires.

My door is locked; I’m guarding what is holy.

These are sacred grounds and

The work to be done is purposeful.

Father, let me wake each day in gladness

that my breath is from you

and that your name is on each breath,

and the immediate distractions

fighting for my attention –

the phone and social media and to-do lists –

and the foes bringing their friends in,

worry and discontent and exhaustion to my circumstances –

they do not deserve my first breaths;

but the one who does is the one who gives me breath.

Father, let me arise with your name

On my heart, my lips, my breath.

Let my first moments awake to a new day

be a sacrifice to you

because you deserve them.

Lord, let your Holy Spirit within me

guide my thoughts, prayers, steps and words

and keep me righteous in your eyes,

and keep my foes away,

and keep my treasure protected.

Let all my ways be your ways.

Psalm 2: How Long, O God

How long, O God, must I pray for the same thing,

How long will you allow this calamity and chaos in our lives,

How long must I endure the emotional pain and torment

I have to wake up to daily, and be faced with hourly,

And count down the minutes until I can go to sleep,

Only to wake up and face it all again?

How long will my prayers to you go unanswered

for deliverance from this mess, for me and for my family?

Most days I am certain there is no other family

Living through the hell we are;

There is no other family suffering like this.

It’s a painful, complicated suffering, too, Lord,

because we “look fine” to others,

So we add to the layers of pain and agony

That we are not supported, seen, heard and loved well through this.

God, I thank you for the many people who take the time to hear

And pray for us and walk alongside our story,

And who don’t think we are “too much”

Or give a canned empathetic response to our pain,

“I feel for them. I really do” but don’t pray, or don’t offer help.

Lord, we covet the prayers of our brothers and sisters in Christ

Who truly lift us up to you, and pray with us for deliverance and healing.

Blessed are those who walk alongside the hurting and long-suffering, Father.

They deserve crowns of mercy.

With all of the pain, with the PTSD,

with the trauma, and shaking hands

And fear at every little noise I hear,

and fear of the future for all of us,

And fear of when or if this will ever end,

and concern for generational trauma,

And the heavy feeling in my chest,

and the gray hairs beginning to push out the blonde,

Lord, with all of the juggling of the chaos,

and sacrificing our work to be hands on,

With all of the very many therapy sessions and doctor’s appointments,

And time lost to this hard, hard story you have allowed us to walk through,

I know, you are still good.

I know you are Sovereign.

I know you have good plans for us through all of this

and on the other side,

even if the other side is far off or in Heaven.

Father, give me the strength to keep taking this pain,

Give me the endurance to keep my faith strong,

Lord, help me have joy in the pain,

And continue to seek and gather your goodness and beauty that is all around.

Father, I ask, always, for your will to be done.

But if your will is for this to continue,

Lord, I will need you to take over in my weakness.

Blessed are the ones who endure long-suffering like this.

Blessed is the family who “looks fine” but is hanging on by a thread.

Blessed is the child with mental illness who doesn’t know

how big and dangerous her harmful ways are to so many who love her,

but you know her struggles and you feel her pain.

Blessed is the child whose brain is on fire and can’t control his rage,

And can’t get the help he needs from doctors.

Blessed are the siblings who endure;

who say they hate their life because of how hard it feels for them.

Blessed is the mother who hears this and feels helpless and lays their fears and troubles in the basket of Moses and pushes it down the stream.

Blessed is the father whose back is blistered from the flaming arrows

being shot at his family and he keeps taking them,

and protecting and loving his family well through the war.

Bless the time I spend with you, which lately Father, is so very much,

Because there is no other place I’d rather be.

Oh, how I long for Heaven and for no more tears and pain.

Blessed is the righteous in their long suffering.

Psalm 3: Gratitude

O Father, words fall short;

I can’t seem to know how to appropriately thank you

for the many ways you show your lovingkindness,

for the many ways your grace flows over me.

As sure as my lungs fill with air to breathe

all the minutes of the day,

I am of your unending goodness,

til my final days on Earth,

til I have no breath left in them,

I want to try my best

to express my gratitude to you.

For your patience and mercy,

for the times you’ve answered my prayers

and the times you didn’t.

For the beauty you’ve opened my eyes to see,

and that it’s all around, always,

to sustain me through the hard days

which are as prevalent as the beauty.

For the gifts you placed inside of me

to use for my delight and for your glory.

For your word that guides my heart,

and your gentleness

when I need a tender whisper in my heart,

telling me you are here, and I am going to be OK.

That you never left me, and you never leave,

You are a good father, holding my hand

through the hardest days,

taking my training wheels off when you know the time is right, even when I don’t feel it is.

You never change from the Father of Moses to me,

you are the same.

I know even my pain, even my suffering I can call good

because you wrote it in your book of life,

in fact, you chose it for me for your purpose

and our purposes are good.

I may not always understand that, Father,

but I know as my circumstances change, you don’t.

As my tears fall, you catch them,

you collect them,

you never forget.

Until my last breath, I want to thank you.

And when I enter Heaven,

surrounded and joined by the Heavenly host,

I want to thank you.

Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord God, the Almighty,

the one who always was,

who is,

and the one who is still to come.

Thank you, Father.

Psalm 4: In the Night

O Lord, at night before I close my eyes,

I want to be with you.

With days so long,

and the suffering, strong,

I want to be with you.

Meet me, Lord, I want to rest,

Close my eyes,

breathe out the stress,

There is no place I’d rather be,

I want to be with you.

Outside my window every night,

I am calmed by the owl’s soothing whoo,

I think you put him there,

because you care,

You want to be with me, too.

Your embrace surrounds me,

Heaven has found me,

You are here with me right now.

You are my son’s sleeping face,

The cadence of my dog’s snores,

The glow of the moon, so white,

You’re my husband’s foot touching mine,

My daughter, safe behind her doors.

You’re all the beauty in the night.

O Lord, let me be with you,

all the hours of my day,

And at night, when I need you near,

Let me hear you say,

My child, my child,

you are my beloved,

I am holding you so tight.

I’m here with you all the hours of the day,

and I’m here with you in the night.

Have no fears, you’re safe to rest,

I will watch over you.

My precious child, close your eyes.

I want to be with you, too.

Advent Pen & Ink

Writing