Remember Me



Remember me

in my little boat

a hundred and fifty days alone


Remember me

and the faith I knew

to bring You my beasts, two by two

Remember the pain

Remember the fear

Remember forty days of tears

Remember the broken

and blood-stained ground

Remember the names

Remember the drowned


Remember the heartache

Remember the sigh

Remember the weight of the sky

Remember the flesh

Remember the flood

Remember what you saved me from



Remember me

in my little berth

drenched in nightmares of the earth


Remember me

as I rock to sleep

below deck of violent memories


Remember the pain

Remember the fear

Remember forty days of tears

Remember the broken

and blood-stained ground

Remember the names

Remember the drowned


Remember the heartache

Remember the sigh

Remember the weight of the sky

Remember the sorrow

Remember the grief

Remember to send an olive leaf

Remember me

in my little frame

bursting at the seams with pain


Remember me

that ash and dust is

hardly fit for the weight of injustice


Remember the pain

Remember the fear

Remember forty days of tears

Remember the hunger

Remember the stones

Remember the screams

Remember the groans

Remember the heartache

Remember the sigh

Remember the weight of the sky

Remember the nails

Remember the blood


Remember the rainbow

Remember my flood





Breaking addiction or numbing habits is a brave and heroic act of healing. But when you take away the numbness or blinders, and let emotion in, years worth of grief can suddenly overwhelm you: the weight of the world, the hurts of everyone you love, and the realization of your own trauma break the dam that's been building up for years.

2020 was the wrong year to start feeling!


I am deconstructing my religion because I need a God who knows and heals pain, not causes it. I need a God who advocates, not traumatizes. I think He's right there in the same Bible. You just have to clear a lot of deceiving serpents first.


As I recognize the healing power of letting myself grieve, I find it to be a holy act. Sometimes the pain is so overwhelming, I am forced to break something - with controlled purpose - instead of letting the sheer energy of emotion break my body instead. And as I sweep up the shards mixed with tears, I think, God did this too. Grief - the pain of loss - is His anger. He is angry for us, not at us.


The account of Noah can be seen as one of wrath, or one of unfathomable grief. Genesis 6 calls humans "sons of God." God's beloved image-bearers and children of delight. It doesn't say He was so angry that He punished them... it says He was grieved. It says He was sorry -sighing- that He made them... because they were hopelessly deceived and blind, knowing nothing but corruption and violence.

His beautiful and beloved creation was abusing each other.


And so I like to consider... God wept. For 40 days, He drowned the earth with His own tears, not enacting violence and vengeance, but washing it clean. Grieving His loss. Holy grief. God wept. God grieved. God destroyed corruption, and God saved those beloved who would multiply Truth rather than violence.


If I look at it this way, Jesus is no longer a contradiction, when the Bible says God is unchanging. Jesus wept. Jesus grieved. Jesus destroyed corruption, and Jesus saves the Truth-bearers.


And so, while I am called upon to remember God's love and salvation in my darkest and agonizing times, I would ask Him to remember His own grief and pain. Remember what it feels like to be utterly broken-hearted by the world, to be stabbed in the back, to be so sorry for the injustice, that you need to wipe clean everything you ever knew and loved to make room for Truth. Remember what it's like to suffer. Remember what it's like to be alone... the only thing God saw in the beginning and said "It is NOT good."


I ask Him to remember me, as He remembered Noah, and send me an olive branch, until I see the rainbow, until I know a whole new clean world.


I ask Him to remember me, as He remembered Jesus, and send me an angel to minister to me in the wilderness.