I watched you today, and I knew you were hidden in a place so dark, so far from here. I longed for eloquent words, hands to reach out and hold, for God to reveal.
Instead I stood there still, let my tangled words tumble right out. I just wanted to find you, show you just a little glint of Him.
You stood there, looked at me through your glazed over eyes, tried your best to smile.
The enemy has been attacking you with such vengeance. His relentless strikes are even wearing me down as I watch your struggle.
How do I show you how much you are loved?
How do I show you how much you were made for me?
How do I let go of control and let you go?
I do not know all your story. I can't even pretend to understand. Your hurt lashes out from a place I never knew. I wish I could have existed right there beside you, so I could really comprehend. But, this was not His plan, despite my wish.
And I have learned the hard way that His plan really does trump mine. He really is Love (1 John 4:8). He really does hold the universe in His hands (Gen. 1-2:23). He really is Good (Num. 23:19). His ways are not mine (Isa. 55:8).
I look deep into your eyes. I know you are there. I've witnessed your strength. I've seen His fire blazing inside you.
Do you know I can never stop loving you?
He whispers in my ear the song of Moses (Deut. 32).
I remember when He found me, just like a wandering Israelite, in a desert land, my wasteland, a howling wilderness. That terrible place where the enemy roared through the wind, zapped every ounce of my strength, whiplashing me into belief of his lies.
Curled in a ball, cheek to the ground, I mustered up my last strength, raised my shaking palm high to Him, and screamed. My scream surfaced as a whisper, but my faith, my faith must have shouted loud. The wind was still howling, but I could finally see hope through the swirling sand.
He encircled, instructed, kept me in His sight.
"For He bruises, but He binds up;
He wounds, but His hands make whole."
Job 5:18
And I cannot see your bruises, but my faith reminds me you are bound. I know you are wounded, but I also know, firsthand, how His glorious, comforting, gentle, yet so-strong hands make a broken, lifeless, hopeless girl whole.
And when my sick finally healed whole, I knew I belonged in His chosen family.
He adopted me (Eph. 1:5).
I adopted you.
We are family.
I pray you hear the song of Moses.
I love you.
