Tuesday, October 28, 2014

Come to Me (from Jade)

Photo By Rebecca at Caravan Sonnet

Come to Me.

Sitting here, dishes clink and coffee steams hot in the early morning. Light has broken 
across the sky and I’m thinking about what to say. How to express what wells up, 
but...which doesn’t always come out exactly the way I’d like for it to. It’s a hard thing. 
Penning words that have stayed deep within, pushed and buried down in that deep well 
where we all keep things hidden. I write words often-they are as easy as breathing and 
as hard as cutting myself open and bleeding. 

You are forgotten. He doesn’t see.

Whispers come in the dark. Often. Weaving in and out like a fog, especially when the 
pain is at its greatest. I wouldn’t talk about it. I don’t want people to look at me with 
sympathy. I don’t want them to see my face and only see the one thing that doesn’t 
define me, but which tries to. I am not this. This is not who I am. Yet, still it would try to 
make me what it is. It tries, in the deep of the night, to rewrite, recode, remake who I am.

You are forgotten. He doesn’t see.

There. The fog would thicken, it would push back, weigh down, crush, making me feel 
claustrophobic. And it whispers to not speak, don’t cry out, don’t let anyone know. If 
they know, you will never be seen. Who you are will become lost in all that what you 
carry is. For you are no more than this thing. This one thing that turns moments into 
days, days into months, months into years. Or, at least, that’s how it feels. 

Then...

“Come to me, I am all you need.”

I can’t...I don’t know how. Father, I am losing who I am in this sea. I am beaten down 
and this pain screams in my face until I can’t hear anything else...

“I am your anchor in the wind and the waves.”

I...love You. This is all I know in this moment. Beyond what the other voices scream at 
me, beyond what they whisper in the deep of the night. I know. I am Yours. I am NOT forgotten.

“Beloved, you are SEEN. I see you. All of you. For I hung on that tree and gazed down 
the ages...and it was YOUR face I saw. Yours.”

I’m sitting here, and the pain has not lessened. It is there. I carry it. Could He heal me? 
Yes. However, beyond what the enemy whispers or screams, I have a choice. I can 
either let this push me, drive me, propel me straight into the heart of the One who loves 
me. Or not. But, when I choose to look to the right and to the left instead of gazing into 
the eyes of the ONE man who died for me, it is so. much. worse. And, do you know 
what I’ve discovered? If I can allow this to keep my eyes focused on Him, it is worth it. Truly. He is worth it. He is worth it all.

“Oh, let your faith arise, and lift up your weary head.”

He sees. You. You are His. Oh, beloved, you are His heart. You are NOT forgotten, you 
are loved. More than you’ll ever be able to imagine. So loved. Adored. 

“Behold, I will do something new, 
Now it will spring forth; Will you not be aware of it?
I will even make a roadway in the wilderness,
Rivers in the desert.” 
-Isaiah 43:19-

What you carry does not define who you are. YOU are a child of the Living God. You 
are a daughter of the King. The pain, the hurt, whatever it may be, it is not WHO you 
are. Remember this! Remember and see. You are HIS. He is doing something new. 
Always. Though in the moment you may not see it...oh, like a roadway in the wilderness 
and streams in the desert, it will break forth. 

"I am with you, wherever you go...come to me, I am all you need."

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