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Sunday, December 7th, 2003
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8:11p - Thoughts and a prayer
It’s ten minutes after ten, and I just got back from church a little while ago. The other girls are upstairs preparing for bed. I’m in my kitchen barefoot, just enjoying the quietness and peace of this sweet little house that God placed me in. Oh, Yeshua, what good things You’ve given me… when I think about them, when I take the time to savor each one, I am overwhelmed. Even with the difficult things and the things that hurt and are too hard to understand, You have always been close, You have always cared about me. It reminds me of that verse, and how I heard it spoken once… “Cast all your cares upon God, because you matter to Him.” I am so glad, Father, that I matter so much to You. You, in your greatness and glory; You who don’t need to be concerned with such a one as I. But I am the treasure of Your heart, the flower in the brambles… Thou art all fair, My love… When I am used and beaten and drained of emotion, You come and wrap your love around me like a quilt and comfort me. You understand me, and You gently restore me. You wash my feet. Despite all. Even when I have nothing to give You, You are so persistent. It melts me.
I’ve been brought back, recently, to the same thought that God spent all of last year whispering to me… simply this: I am important. I am valuable and highly prized and important. And what I have to say to people is important, because I have words of life to give them. I had drifted away from this truth and become self-conscious when talking to people, thinking what right do I have to bother this person with news of the Gospel? But no—I am important because God has deemed me so, and paid the highest price for me. What I have to say is very, very important. I will not be ashamed of it.
The shy teenage girl and her boyfriend with the chains and piercings, the man at the checkout with the unhurried pace, humming a Christmas tune as he bags my groceries—
The friend of a friend whose husband has cheated on her and she is reeling from the impact of rejection—
The woman who sits on her steps, smoking a cigarette and staring—
Oh, Beloved. Don’t let me be silent. Love them through me, heal them through my words that are really Your words. Let my hugs be hugs from You, my tears be the tears that you weep over your lost people. Lost and afraid and blind… the white harvest. Here am I…Oh, Jesus. Send me. They need to know this.
current mood:  calm (2 comments |comment on this)
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