I’ve been absent, but not because I’ve been wallowing in the depths of despair. Truly. It seems, though, that I have been timid about saying things loudly for the wide world to hear. Maybe that’s good. Maybe it’s not. I’m still working through it all, but I feel confident that when God teaches me something, when He moves and works and changes me in some way, it’s always good to say THAT as loudly as possible. So here goes.
Jesus is close to the brokenhearted. Really and truly He is – whether we see or feel His closeness, He is near. And along this journey I have experienced that closeness in a way that I never have before. The more broken I become, the more near He is to me. Story time:
I co-hosted a baby shower for a dear friend on that Saturday, so when Sunday morning rolled around, the emotional mountain called How are you? felt insurmountable. I skipped LIFE group because I didn’t want to lie but I didn’t feel much like telling people my real answer either. I slipped into the pew, husbandless due to translation device issues, just before the worship team started in on, Your Grace Is Enough. I sang it loud and proud and asked Him to help me reach out and take the grace that always has been enough in my life. And I MAY have thought a little about how alone was not how I wanted to feel on this particular day. I worshiped because now that I know Him and me so much better, what else can I do?
Eyes closed and spirit moving [along with my hips…possibly], a felt two arms slip around my waist and opened my eyes to find my friend Tiffany hugging me. Sweetly and honestly shedding tears on my behalf and saying something about how she saw me across the room and just needed to come give me a hug. I relished it and willed myself not to burst into the ugly cry. I maintained composure, we finished our hug, and she went back to sit with her family.
And then it happened. The the first few notes slid across the room and onto my unsuspecting ears. I know them well and my heart knuckles turned white as I held tightly to the safety bar of my emotional coaster car, preparing for the drop that I saw coming just ahead, completely unaware of what waited for me at the bottom. I’m pretty sure I held my actual physical breath and my aching soul and terrified heart uttered Jesus. He responded with I know, honey. I’m here. [Side note: If I read that somewhere else I might think it sounded cheesey…or tree hugger-like…but it’s really what I heard in my heart. I’m just keepin’ it real!] I remembered to breath again and leaned into the comforting, protective arms of my Jesus as my friend Ashley’s beautiful voice danced my way with these words:
Two months is too little
They let him go
They had no sudden healing
To think that providence
Would take a child from his mother
While she prays, is appalling
Who told us we’d be rescued
What has changed and
Why should we be saved from nightmares
We’re asking why this happens to us
Who have died to live, it’s unfair
This is what it means to be held
How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive
This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was that when everything fell
We’d be held
This hand is bitterness
We want to taste it and
Let the hatred numb our sorrows
The wise hand opens slowly
To lilies of the valley and tomorrow
This is what it means to be held
How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive
This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was that when everything fell
We’d be held
If hope is born of suffering
If this is only the beginning
Can we not wait, for one hour
Watching for our Savior
This is what it means to be held
How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive
This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was that when everything fell
We’d be held
I wept. Face scrunched at first, grasping for some strand of control, and then I let go. Of control and pissed and wrapped my hands tightly around broken. And I cried. And cried. And cried. Right into the shoulder of the Jesus who is near to this brokenhearted woman. When I went to retrieve my sweet girl from her class, make-up cried off and face all splotchy, Ashley was the one who greeted me at the door. Where you in service, she said. Yes. Your song… I stopped. I thought of you as I was rehearsing it all week. I’ve been praying it over you. Just know that you are loved and a lot of people are praying for you.
And just like that Jesus drew even nearer because knowing that someone planned for you in advance…well, it makes you sure it’s deep and crazy love. As if I should need more proof. And that’s the thing…He didn’t have to give me anymore proof since He died for me and all. But He does.
I cannot explain it or wrap my mind around it. But I know what I’ve experienced…a communion with my Jesus that is more real than I have ever known before. This isn’t because of extensive Bible study or focused prayer time – although I’m excited to get back to those. It’s because of Jesus. Because He says that He binds up the brokenhearted, and what He says, He does.
Mostly I hope that my journey encourages you. That it helps you remember or believe better that He is who He says He is. That He is faithful. That it really IS all about Jesus. How is Jesus showing up in YOUR life right now? He shows up in all kinds of ways in the many seasons of our lives, and I know that your journey can encourage me because it already has. Please do share, sweet friends!
I wish I had time to reflect and share. I'm hoping it comes soon, because I know I need to do so.
I can't even start reading the lyrics to that song. J has gone to teach this am, and i've got the two "kidlets" by myself–no way I can go down that road right now.
Thanks so much for this. Looking forward to hearing (reading) more from you.
I wish I had time to reflect and share. I'm hoping it comes soon, because I know I need to do so.
I can't even start reading the lyrics to that song. J has gone to teach this am, and i've got the two "kidlets" by myself–no way I can go down that road right now.
Thanks so much for this. Looking forward to hearing (reading) more from you.