Something in the Quiet and Pain

There’s something in the quiet stillness. Something in the rushing of the breeze. Fan blowing across carpet floor, clothes strewn everywhere to see.

There’s something in the faltering of me. Something in the breaking of bone and marrow. Weakness creeping into every crevice, the darkness of a shadow.

And yet there’s something here, something I don’t know if I asked to see. There’s something in this breaking, this pain, this grief. There’s something I have sensed before, and yet it all costs the bitter price, for to reach the soul of Jesus, you must join Him in the bleeding scars.

I’ve read of someone who wrote, that God gives mercy where we do not see. Where we do not ask for, where we did not think to need. I have asked for mercy in my weariness, asked it to be softened, and yet, this is not where I have been sent mercy, but I remember that He said He would fight for me. That He would fight for me, when I could not fight for myself, and as the storm clouds are buffering the sunlight, shards of lightning falling down, I will declare, that this is my Hope, I am not and have never been alone.

And just yesterday, I felt that He was so silent, and told myself, have faith. Have faith. Have faith. And believe. Things are not always as they seem.

And He has spoken, “your faith has made you well.” But remember friends, that His ways are far above ours, this wellness is often not the healing that we seek, but it’s the more important one – the one where our souls are reached.

I have heard Him speak, even when I did not desire it. When my heart was hurting and furious, and the pain was all still blinding. But He speaks, even in the grief and stillness, even in the tainted world of brokenness, He speaks.

I will not say, that I always understand, or even now, I will not say that I understand His plan. But I have seen Him in raw form and His Spirit is ever sweet, and when the world around is shaking, He is the wind beneath my wings.

I have wept and cried for His goodness, and on the other end, the bitter pain of what He has allowed in this day. I have blessed Him and known naught else, and I have slammed a fist on heaven’s door, asking why and when it will end.

But what can I say? What can I offer to those who ask? I can say He has been there.

He has been there in the darkening night of fear, bringing Scripture to mind and a fierceness of who I am. He has been there as the tears soaked my bed, enveloping me in His closeness – something nothing in this world can bend. He has been there, over all the years of my life, I can never say that I do not know Him by sight. I have felt His power and strength, and the ever present help, I bear His signet seal upon my soul.

And He told me in my weakness, “Get up, my child.” And so I did.

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