For those who carry heavy things....

I have been meeting with a counselor and walking through some heavy stuff that has surfaced the last 8ish months. And all kinds of things could fall into the "heavy stuff" bucket for any one of us.

What could any of us put in that bucket? Fear. Anxiety. Shame. Depression. Violation. Guilt. Denial. Rage. Rejection. Just to name a few.

I found great release, great freedom, great laying down of the heavy from 7 sentences.

Psalm 142 has 7 verses that tell us to use our voices. For what? To pour out our complaint. To whom? God...the Great High King.

Tell your trouble to Him. POUR it out. Like a huge massive galvanized bin with ice leftover from a gathering you had when all the drinks you provided are gone. Dump it out, like you would that bucket onto your back lawn....seeping, flowing...icy and cold and all over.

And then....after that...and who knows how long you may be pouring it out....there is a specific request. And it's exactly what those who carry heavy things need. The request: Bring me out of prison (some versions says the prison of my soul).

What is that prison for you? Name it. What's inside that prison? Pour out everything you can think of. Why? Verse 7 says so that we may give thanks to God.

7 Bring me out of prison,     that I may give thanks to your name! The righteous will surround me,     for you will deal bountifully with me.

And as you pour yourself out, as you tell your trouble, name your prison.....there's this imperative statement that closes it out: the righteous will surround me, for you will deal bountifully with me.

And friends...this is where I stand. Poured out. To God. Asking to be brought out of the prison of my soul. So that I can thank Him. Surrounded by those who are righteous. With a bounty around me.

I've poured, He has responded. I've handed it over (different than asking Him to take it) and He has brought me out of prison.

May Psalm 142 be a help for your soul, for your heavy things, for the setting down, for the freedom.

Psalm 142

1With my voice I cry out to the Lord;     with my voice I plead for mercy to the Lord. I pour out my complaint before him;     I tell my trouble before him.

When my spirit faints within me,     you know my way! In the path where I walk     they have hidden a trap for me. Look to the right and see:     there is none who takes notice of me; no refuge remains to me;     no one cares for my soul.

I cry to you, O Lord;     I say, “You are my refuge,     my portion in the land of the living.” Attend to my cry,     for I am brought very low! Deliver me from my persecutors,     for they are too strong for me! Bring me out of prison,     that I may give thanks to your name! The righteous will surround me,     for you will deal bountifully with me.