“For it is not an enemy who reproaches me;
Then I could bear it.
Nor is it one who hates me who has exalted himself against me;
Then I could hide from him.
But it was you, a man my equal,
My companion and my acquaintance.
We took sweet counsel together,
And walked to the house of God in the throng.”
– Psalm 55:12-14, NKJV –
I don’t really get how everything can be so clear and formulated and true–but then one who names Christ can turn so much against another of His children. Turned on…Betrayed.
I guess I’m angry sometimes at men who turned on brothers, women who turned on those once loved. Mad at sin natures for clashing and gutting friendships.
On these nights, I just want to sink, crying, into Everlasting Arms. I want heaven on these nights.
On these nights, sin is too small a word for this globe-mass of inhumanity. My heart aches, with a pain one part hurt and one part asymmetry.
Asymmetry–because something in me twists and there is a gut-knowing, less than a whisper, that this is not what relationships were made to be.
On these nights, I know why this crazy world needs a Savior.
On these nights I see what the so-called “good” are capable of–and know how staggeringly amazing is this grace.
On these nights, from the pit of my stomach presses the groan for redemption.
“For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of Him who subjected it in hope; because the creation itself also will be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation groans and labors with birth pangs together until now. Not only that, but we also who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, eagerly waiting for the adoption, the redemption of our body.”
– Romans 8:20-23, NKJV –
Subjected to this. Yes, subjected. Slaves, it seems, to be hurt and hurt, to be betrayed and betray, to be our own idols. On these nights this earth yoke weighs hard.
But not only subjected–subjected IN HOPE. To whisper, “There is hope,” is to wedge a stick into the fast slamming door. In hope. Then, maybe, in all this clenching, brain-twisting rawness there is a purpose, a glimmer in Redemption’s eye?
We have this hope as an anchor for our souls (Hebrews 6:19).
So there is a stick wedged in the door.
So there is an anchor, with life-gusts straining at the ropes.
Will it hold?
Yes. Because He is a faithful Creator. This promise of no pain to come is enough to carry us on.
This pain bows us.
It can ruin us, taint us–or bend our knees.
In this creation-groan life, a light is steadily growing.
Hold on…Stand firm…Hold fast…Remember…Entrust yourself…
There is a way to survive.
There is a way to greet eternity’s dawn with a smile.
Can you reach out and believe me, that my faithful God–and yours–can do more than keep you from falling?
He is able to make you stand.
“Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul – and sings the tunes without the words – and never stops at all.”
– Emily Dickinson –