The words were little more than a sigh.
She inhaled, exhaled, and still there was nothing, nothing but air and wishes, and not even that, if she was honest. Words don't breathe until they are said, until they are formed on the tongue, until they slip from lip and sing across empty space. And wishes, well, they need definition, and definition requires words.
So she sighed.
Her feelings were scattered, splintering in every direction but straight, focusing here, then there, trying to be everywhere at once, forgetting that omnipresence is better left to God-who-sees. The feelings were like that; they didn't remember so much as they should.
She didn't know what to say, so she couldn't write. She took pictures, and they said a great deal too much, and didn't say quite enough.
Grace is a slippery thing, she thought.
No, no it's not.
Again she sighed. Tried to focus her thoughts. Gave up. Sighed again.
Today, she didn't know who she was. Was she pastels and tulips or bright and daisies? Or was she somewhere in between? Was there a place for all of it? Why did everything seem that it needed to be compartmentalized? She felt she might blow apart with the things trapped inside.
God was so near some days; He was near now - she knew His presence. But drawing near to Him required a little bravery on her part. A little trust. A lot of truth.
She wasn't afraid of the wrathful God of Revelation; her heart thrilled at the blazing rescue executed by the fiery-eyed Son of Man from whose mouth came the Word of God that seared her soul. There was no wrath for her, no fear there.
But rejection - even the possibility - it asked faith of her. Faith that Jesus was enough. That grace was sufficient for her to come to Him and rest when she was weary. It seemed she was always weary.
She had heard that she needed to do more, to be more than she was. The voices in her head - the loud ones that lived on her mental tickertape - they said that God required more of her or else. The "or else" was never defined. She lived in fear of that dropping ball. Sometimes the prospect was too much for her. She hunkered down, shut out the world, dived beneath the radar of God-who-sees.
Ironically, she never escaped His gaze.
His wisdom wasn't supposed to be confusing.
She couldn't live a lifetime in a moment.
She couldn't change herself.
Everything was muddled without considering Jesus. She'd never be enough.
But there He was. Jesus, her free. Her Spirit-sealed guarantee that God would not reject her if she drew near. His gaze seemed suddenly more welcoming.
Her feelings focused; she needed to hide for now, but not from Him. In Him. In that secret place of His presence where there is no need for definition or caveat or explanation. She'd be safe there. Covered.
Blessed is he whose transgression is forgiven,
Whose sin is covered.
Blessed is the man to whom the LORD does not impute iniquity,
And in whose spirit there is no deceit.
When I kept silent, my bones grew old
Through my groaning all the day long.
For day and night Your hand was heavy upon me;
My vitality was turned into the drought of summer. Selah
I acknowledged my sin to You,
And my iniquity I have not hidden.
I said, “I will confess my transgressions to the LORD,”
And You forgave the iniquity of my sin. Selah
For this cause everyone who is godly shall pray to You
In a time when You may be found;
Surely in a flood of great waters
They shall not come near him.
You are my hiding place;
You shall preserve me from trouble;
You shall surround me with songs of deliverance. Selah
I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go;
I will guide you with My eye.
Do not be like the horse or like the mule,
Which have no understanding,
Which must be harnessed with bit and bridle,
Else they will not come near you.
Many sorrows shall be to the wicked;
But he who trusts in the LORD, mercy shall surround him.
Be glad in the LORD and rejoice, you righteous;
And shout for joy, all you upright in heart!
- Psalm 32
(Image © Informal Moments Photography)