I've always been touched by the story of the woman who poured out her tears on Jesus' feet and so often in my own turbulence of heart and mind, I am reminded of the time of a storm at sea, Christ Himself in the stern.
He is after all, a God not separate, nor removed from the troubles we face, but in them, He dwells. He touches us with the perfume of joy; sustains us with the bread of life and breathes into us His life so that we can live and live well.
I wrote these words for Him; they are written over the course of a few years and I share them with hesitance, because they are precious to me. Too precious for sharp judgement or the scrutiny of man. And yet, how can I live this life unless our pour out what is due Him?
May something in here strengthen your heart and remind you that you are His.
I stayed away because I thought I had to smile.
I hid myself because I thought you would not want to see my tears.
I wrapped myself in the earth and made darkness my home.
My blood wet the ground beneath me and I cried alone.
I did not know that You were there in the darkness.
That You are not only present in the Light, but that you whisper to the Night
And that the shadow beneath which I dwelt was Your wing.
You saw fit, Lord, to come in flesh.
You did not shrink away from pain.
You married flesh and made time your home,
Coming down from the untouchable realm, you brought heaven to earth, one footstep at a time.
I find you here.
In breath and life and all that beats, the echo of your heartbeat in my veins, the life you breathed filling my lungs.
Life of flesh and bone,
Life of dust and glory mixed.
You are not a far-off God, a distant Deity in galaxies beyond, untouched. Untouchable.
You are the beat, the heart, the breath.
I could not walk if it were not for You, could not sweat or bleed or breathe or die.
All things belong to You and You are in all.
You are there in the darkness; in the life, in the death and all that’s in between.
I don’t always find You; don’t breathe long enough. Am too hard on myself.
I feel my pain hard.
My sorrow pours out before you but I forget that I wash your feet and wipe you dry with the hair you made; the hair you count, the hair that turns grey and eventually fades away. Dust to dust.
Here in the darkness; not separate to pain but in the thickness.
You bear the scars of being misunderstood; the violence of man; how we miss You, lose You, cannot find You.
You created us and put us in flesh; You tied us into the bonds of time. At times it feels cruel, sometimes it feels true and real and sometimes it feels like nothing at all.
You saw fit, to send us, and having sent us, sent Your own.
You didn’t leave us, never left us, never let us bleed out, breathe out, melt into the earth…You never forsook them, not one, not one who turned their heart to You and saw You for who You were.
The great love story; my great love story; unfolding in the playing out of time. Chapter upon chapter, word upon word. Your words to the world.
You dwell not in ivory towers and untouched realms. You beat in my bones, my heart and flesh alive in You and through it You live.
You call me to Yourself; that sweet refrain; whispers of love stroking my hair and holding me tight; dove at Your side, child on Your breast, bride in Your arms.
You know just how long to rock me, how long to hold me tight. How long we ought to stay silent together and when to speak your wordless words; Your rhythms and rhymes which hold the world in place.
To You I will return. Into this earth my flesh will melt, fade, dissolve.
All that is Yours returns to You and that which is not blows away; chaff to the wind, life in the wind.
How fitful I am at times, how restless and poorly led; how shameful how weak and how blind I am. I seek the flesh to fill the soul. I forget who I am. Where I was before I was born. Where I will be and am already outside of time, with You, over and above all.
Yet still here.
In the time of Your choosing.
For the purpose of Your choosing.
Through the power of Your wisdom.
Through the strength of Your wisdom.
In the flesh, but with You, I walk.
And You walk beside; over, inside , outside, underneath.
Breathe in me and I will breathe.
Revive me and my heart shall sing.
Hand me my sword and I will fight for You!
Give me My song and I will sing it.
Feed me Your bread and I shall grow strong.
Shield me and I will not retreat.
Set a path for what is crooked.
Feed me bread from heaven so that I may grow strong.
As I walk my days let them breathe with Your life.
Let them be Your song.
Your poem, written on my heart, through my heart.
My life is Yours.
And I am yours.
'For He shall grow up before Him as a tender plant, and as a root out of dry ground. He has no form or comeliness;and when we see Him, there is no beauty that we should desire Him. He is despised and rejected by men, a Man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. And we hid, as it were, our faces from Him
He was despised, and we did not esteem Him. Surely He has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed Him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted.
But He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement for our peace was upon Him, and by His stripes we are healed.'