My Soul Yearns After Thee: A Reflection on Grace

The Weight of Silence

My soul yearns after Thee and cannot find Thee...

Thou wast pleased to give my Thy grace,

and again Thou wast pleased to take it from me.

Lowell is right; why not say what happened? My son was sick,

throwing up through the night.

I lit a candle for him, my wife trying to sleep on the couch,

the space left for me: the floor. In the wavering flame,

the hardwood was cool as August desks were, growing up,

before the school had air conditioning, and the floor

went wet with my tears. I can't explain this,

the rest so close to cliché. Maybe the late hours made it possible.

God came in silence, and I wept in silence until my wife asked me

why I couldn't get off the floor.

The Longing for Grace

I have gone there so many nights since,

wanting that night again. St. Silouan, where in your body

did you use to house the Holy Spirit? Did you feel the same covering,

inside and out, a fullness so indiscernible

from your body that it made you wonder

where you'd been all this time? And when grace left,

and your mind went dark, who left—you or Him?

Why is your chapter "On Grace" only about it leaving? Like Thomas,

put my thumb in your wounds. I want to know what happened.

I'm asking you as a friend who knows what I am unable to say.

How long do I have to wait now? And will you wait beside me?

The Candle's Flicker

In that moment, the flicker of the candle

became a beacon, guiding my thoughts.

Each flicker whispered secrets of the night,

echoing the stillness that enveloped me.

The shadows danced on the walls,

reminding me of the fleeting nature of grace.

I pondered the silence, a heavy blanket,

wrapped around my heart.

Embracing the Darkness

As I lay on the floor,

I embraced the darkness.

It was not just sorrow; it was a space

where questions lingered, unspoken yet profound.

The absence of answers became a companion,

a gentle reminder of my humanity.

In that stillness, I found a strange comfort.

I learned to sit with my grief, to let it breathe.

The Journey of Understanding

The journey toward understanding is often winding.

It leads us through valleys of despair and peaks of hope.

Each step taken is a testament to our resilience.

We navigate through the shadows, seeking light.

With every tear shed, I felt a release,

a letting go of burdens I had carried too long.

In the quiet moments, I discovered strength.

The strength to ask questions, to seek answers.

The Gift of Community

In this journey, I realized the importance of community.

The voices of others, echoing my own struggles,

reminded me that I am not alone.

We gather in circles, sharing our stories,

each tale a thread in the fabric of our lives.

Together, we weave a tapestry of understanding,

a beautiful mosaic of shared experiences.

The Promise of Grace

As I reflect on grace, I recognize its duality.

It is both a gift and a challenge,

a presence that can feel elusive.

Yet, in the moments of darkness,

I hold onto the promise of grace.

It whispers to me, urging me to keep seeking,

to remain open to the possibility of its return.

Conclusion: A Quiet Hope

In the end, I find a quiet hope.

A hope that transcends the pain,

that embraces the uncertainty of life.

I will continue to seek, to question,

to sit in the silence, waiting for grace.

And as I do, I invite you to join me.

Let us walk this path together, hand in hand,

as we explore the depths of our souls.

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Luke Taylor Gilstrap lives in Wichita, Kansas, with his wife and two sons. He has received his MFA from Seattle Pacific University, and his poems have appeared in Spiritus, Relief, and Ekstasis, among others. After teaching as Professor of English at Hesston College, now he writes for the national prison ministry of the Orthodox Church.