Though she might despise the fall, and curse its stripping of her soul, she rejoices in His catching her, because it is in this inevitable embrace, she sees more clearly, hears more audibly and understands His love more.
In the stripping of our soul, and the breaking of our heart, He makes a way. He makes a way for us to see His face, to hear His voice and He softens our heart to trust Him more. A month ago, I only thought the fall had shaken its leaves off this tree. However, the falling I’ve encountered over the past week is a fall I never imagined. It’s a fall I’ve feared, but never thought possible. It’s a fall that broke me beyond breaking. It’s a fall I didn’t know I was capable of. It’s a fall that brought me more low than I’ve been. But, it’s a fall that was necessary, a fall neccesary to make a way for growth. A growth I couldn’t accomplish from being perfect; a growing I could not accomplish in my own performance; a growth I need desperately, but can’t achieve. This growth is nothing of me, in fact, it highlights my sin, it boasts of my weakness, it leaves me alone. It leaves me naked, broken, despairing and desperate. But in this desperation, He is needed, nothing else will do. And in my needing Him, he catches me, and in His embrace, this growth becomes possible. Not only does it become possible, but it becomes an opportunity for rich testament of His gospel. It becomes a place of beauty, of glory, of majesty. It shows of His redemptive work that transforms, shapes and molds us, lowly and despised, into the image of His son, honored and prized.
This growth, it’s stupid. It takes our depravity, and it makes it beautiful, radiating glory. Our depravity, that of rubbish, most disgusting, the furthest from truth, the most tainted of good, our sin, He takes it. He takes our shame, and makes it for His fame. It doesn’t make sense. The gospel. It doesn’t make sense. The love of it, the grace of it, the hope of it, it’s too much. It makes nothing of us, it leaves us with no word, no explanation, nothing, nothing except Jesus. Jesus. Jesus, our everything. My fall, my weakness, my shame, my despair looks to Jesus. And in Jesus, in His embrace, this place of desperation discovers a soul revived, a soul strong, a soul relishing in the stripping, because it’s remedy is Jesus.
In His embrace, in this place of desperate glory, where nothing else will remedy, Jesus has me, undistracted, so feeble, so lifeless, unresistant, at rest, with no strength to run or fight or wrestle, He has me. There he lifts the veil clouding my eyes, and speaks tenderly into my ear and the truth of His promise enters the softness of my heart, and it changes me. It changes me.
I am not the same.
So, today, I trust. I trust that He cares for me. I have not to worry. I cannot take thought outside of His promise, of the truth of His word. I am to be. To be in this moment, with Him. In His embrace. He has me. He holds me. He cares for me. I am not to worry. But, I must, I must testify, because, dear, He cares for you too. He longs to get you in His embrace, to speak tenderly to the softness of your heart. He longs to have you, here, in this moment, with Him. Where are you running? Where do you think your strength is sufficient? or your plan is better? Where are you being deceived? Where don’t you believe? Where are you trying to accomplish what He has promised to do in His beautiful time? Just be.
“Trust in the Lord, and do good; dwell in the land and befriend faithfulness. Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart. Commit your way to the Lord; trust in him, and he will act. He will bring forth your righteousness as the light, and your justice as the noonday. Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him;” -Psalm 37: 3-7