Soul, you remembered the strength of truth today.
Whispering through the full table of papers, the messy head of to-do lists, you remembered that there is strength.
Life can so easily get bent, warped, and undone. And when life is (for a short time) clear as a fall morning, we can fear the bending, and warping, and undoing of the strands we have tried so hard to pull together. Everything comes undone.
It can be maddening to think of the pieces to keep pulled together. The constant demand of a world that denies things are breaking, shattering, and crying out. So we hear the enticing words to purchase our way through grief, upgrade our way through the confusion, or perhaps promote ourselves to the other side of heartache.
We easily become scared to call things broken when they are.
Because if they are broken then they need fixing.
And if they need fixing we need our hands and our hearts.
And that’s a little scary isn’t it? It’s scary to think that our feeble hands and our muddled hearts are needed in a world that wants to know where love is and why things have gone so wrong.
Yet, the truth is that strength became weakness so we could pull off fear and leave it torn.
The truth is that love came down when we found ourselves wondering how we could climb.
The truth is that your hands and your heart were intricately formed by the same hand that makes the sun and sea kiss each night.
The truth is that a Father thought of your purpose before you could hold your own head up.
And this is only part of the truth.
The whole piece is more majestic than we could wrap our arms around.
But let’s stretch this week. Let’s wrap our arms around as much truth as we can.
And let’s not be surprised when we start to feel Him pressed up on our bruised hands, whispering, Peace, child.
It’s important we remember truth because we will remember something.
If we don’t remember truth we will remember lying things.
We’ll toss and turn forgetting that fear has lost.
So yes, things are tearing, breaking, and coming undone.
And we need to say this.
As we see the pain of a child longing for a father, hear the cry of a single mother, or observe the war torn land of a country longing for peace, we must tell the truth.
We must look each other in the eye and be honest with pain.
But we must tell the whole story.
Let’s not be half story tellers.
When Truth was beat, stricken, and torn at the seams,
when His breath grew heavy, irregular and weak,
And when Glory came through a dark tomb resurrected,
He did it with your bruised and fearful hearts in mind.
This is love dear soul. This is truth.
My soul remembered strength today and I hope yours does as well.
Let’s be tender with each other because we all do a poor job of remembering.