A Pensive Persistent Melancholy

When I am down and, oh my soul, so weary;
When troubles come and my heart burdened be;
Then, I am still and wait here in the silence,
Until you come and sit awhile with me.

You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains;
You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas;
I am strong, when I am on your shoulders;
You raise me up… To more than I can be.

You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains;
You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas;
I am strong, when I am on your shoulders;
You raise me up… To more than I can be.

There is no life – no life without its hunger;
Each restless heart beats so imperfectly;
But when you come and I am filled with wonder,
Sometimes, I think I glimpse eternity.

You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains;
You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas;
I am strong, when I am on your shoulders;
You raise me up… To more than I can be.

You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains;
You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas;
I am strong, when I am on your shoulders;
You raise me up… To more than I can be.

You raise me up… To more than I can be.
Josh Groban

Today, I am a little sad. Not the kind of sad that looks like the beginnings of some deep dark depression, but sad nonetheless. Maybe a pensive persistent melancholy is a better way to describe how I feel today.

Moving back to Vicksburg was about coming home. About coming back to the place that was so much of a tether, at least in my mind.

I was going to be grounded here.
Being surrounded by old friends, old surroundings, and familiar haunts was going to make this a safe place–providing a security I wanted and needed.

I am so glad I came back. I am glad Becki was here. I am grateful for the sense of being important and loved she gives me. She is a constant source of strength and encouragement. She has made this house we live in a home for all of our boys. Truly we rise up and call her blessed. That this town is a safe secure place is largely due to her.

But today, I am a little sad, a kind of pensive persistent melancholy.
Mourning a little bit.
Grieving just a tad.

Mostly today, it is about me.
The loss of me.
The loss of purpose.
The loss of friends, circles, and fellowships.

Don’ get me wrong. I am not without friends. I have a group of buddies scattered about–mostly in the South–and we communicate as a group every single day of the week and have for years thanks to the internet. Preachers mostly. We are all save one connected by the now defunct Magnolia Bible College. Most of these guys I have known since I was 18 and three of them from an even younger age.

Those guys are my friends and brothers (one of them is my little brother), and I love them unequivocally–even the one whose politics are way outside anything I can understand and appreciate.

But today, I am a little sad. Once again, a pensive persistent melancholy, if you will.
Rebuilding a shattered life was going to be easier here.
At least until I figured out it was going to be hard anywhere.

Life has a funny way of moving on.
People change.
Life happens.
Time rolls on.
And relationships have to be nurtured in order to be sustained.

In the meantime, please understand it is not nearly as dreary as it may sound.
I know good things are coming.
I know they are. I believe that with all my heart.
I do, however, get very frustrated when God’s timing is not in line with my I-want-it-now perspective.

So.

Here’s to new friends and new situations…
Here’s to moving forward and growing stronger…
Here’s to building a new life on stronger foundations…
Here’s to God as the cornerstone and architect!

Today, I am a little bit sad and yet very determined to face the challenges of a great new adventure with the God who raises us up.

How about you?

Les Ferguson, Jr.

14 thoughts on “A Pensive Persistent Melancholy

  1. I have been reading your thoughts for a couple of months Les. There are days when I feel sadness, that persistent melancholy type. But I also find days of great strength and strong faith, and I sharpen against you at times. I thank you for your heart and your truth. Be blessed brother.

  2. My dear friend Les,
    As one of your more mature friends who remembers you from the 90’s, i know from experience that grief is a process that requires patience and faith. Part of your charm as a very young preacher was your impatience. It seemed to give you energy and drive. You used it well.
    However, impatience impedes the grief process. It almost reverses our progress and increases stress. I do understand your need to get on with a career change and also provide for your family. Don’t let that innate impatience impede your progress. Be patient with Les! You are extremely talented, well educated, charismatic and loved. With time, prayer and faith, you will succeed!

  3. I’ve not been through anything that remotely comes close to the horror you’ve experienced, but I have gone from being a preacher to working in the real world and I have left a good home with great friends to relocate. Seven years into this journey I am still trying to make friends and carve out the necessary time / energy to cultivate friendships. It is not an easy task. I find myself longing for yesterday more than embracing today.

  4. Les,
    Believe it or not you are a source of strength and encouragement to me, and I’m sure many others as well. I protest to God what you are going through and the evil that took place. But His strength will show up in our weakness. Keep pressing on, even when it seems so lonely and dark. I pray a lot for you and your family.

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