I heard it said the other day
On Christian radio
(So it must be true)
That, obviously, faith and discouragement can’t coexist.
And it struck me that
For this announcer to be so bold
It’s assumed that many believe just this.

And I was discouraged by this,
(Faithless, that is);
Discouraged that
Sad souls would think themselves unworthy to be saved
Because they were, simply, sad.
Discouraged that
The broken-hearted would try to muster up some healing,
And when they broke again,
Would think it was permanent.
Discouraged that when disappointment comes and the days get rough,
It’s “obviously” my fault for not being faithful enough.
Insult to injury has never been so clear,
To those who weep for justice here.

Is not discouragement, in a sense,
When hope collides with reality?
This makes the heart sick,
And to be heart-sick is to touch the scarred wrist of the world,
Feel the feeble pulse,
And know that Someone else bears self-inflicted scars.
The One who wept had faith in His Father,
But it didn’t stop him from feeling,
From hurting,
From dying.

This is not obvious,
And neither is it en-couraging,
That God would come to a discouraged people and tell them to buck up,
Be brave,
Stop all that crying,
And get on with being faithful.
He loves the broken-hearted,
He came for the sick,
And He knows we can’t save ourselves.
Let the weight pull us to our knees in surrender,
Not to our feet in self-will.

Deliver us now from our self-made faith,
And lift up our heads by your grace.
That we may live the life that you lived,
Saddened and saved in this place.

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