They Need Me.
The scourge of their faces haunts me. I look into their eyes and what I see is desperation. I look into their hearts and what I see is despair. Their slow, dragged movement floats across the surface of this existence at a drift, altered only by a sporadic upset in their expectations or a sudden occasion to their wandering.
I call out to them in every way that I can. Giving myself for them is my purpose in life. I long for their company. I crave their fellowship. With open arms I welcome them, but they only walk by. With a voice of gentleness and urgency I call to them, but the voice of a thousand temporal dreams cloud their hearing. I go to them at their place of need but they refuse my help. “Easier to lift myself up from the miry clay than to accept the hand of an unknown Truth,” they think.
I’m Not Hiding.
In the bar on a stool in the middle of the night? I’m there. Out in the forest in secluded transcendentalism? I’m there. On the floor in the closet, sopping in a puddle of fresh salty tears? I’m there. Beside the grave of a loved one? Yes, even when I seem uninviting, I am there. Openly revealing myself in the walls of the church? There too. Surreptitiousness is not my forte. Hide-and-seek is not my modus operandi. I want to be found. I long for it.
Some brush my shoulder very frequently, but refuse to make eye contact. And as they cuss me and push me away, I reach out to them lovingly. Finding me is not difficult. I am revealed in truth and relevance. Some spend their whole lives seeking me. But those who look right where they are will find me.
I Have a Courier.
Her future is bright, and her purpose is clear. Although at times she appears a sleeping giant, always is she a beacon for me. She transcends generation, culture, ethnicity, socioeconomic status, language, personality conflicts, musical style preference, and the ever-changing noxiousness of tradition. An everlasting Hand holds hers tightly, and the Heart of her Beloved beats for her wellbeing.
Sometimes she tries to conceal me, but I will not be stifled. Her best attempts to bridle my vivacity have only resulted in explosions of the Truth I accompany. I will prevail, and am prevailing. Other times she is the beaten, marginalized, ostracized, abused messenger bearing in disgrace the vengefulness of those who hate her Owner – her Groom – her Lover. But yea, even then, I am not quenched. Though foes assail me and friends betray me, my message is greater than their greatest opposition. I will not fail. When compressed and squeezed, I burst in operative success.
My courier will prevail. He is within her, and His presence, power, love, and infinite wisdom she openly displays to the world. Like those traits, I cannot be degraded or corrupted. As long as my Sender lives, so do I. He is eternal, and I belong to Him.
They Don’t Want Me.
I don’t understand. If my nature was not of the purest joy I would weep tears of heartache. I want to be wanted. By natural demand I am needed. But many to whom I offer myself freely choose to settle for a cheap representation of what only I can offer. These imposters pretend to supply what they know only I can give. Harlots of the heart. Swindlers of the soul. Creeping in stealthy disguise, and sweeping my prospective lovers off their feet. Then dropping them at the curb of iniquity as quickly as they deceived. Some swoon over their offering: money, sex, alcohol, drugs, fame, relationships, perceived happiness. But at the end of their path, destruction is all that can be had. Amidst the provocative allure of deceptive counterfeits, “Turn to me and have life!” I plead. But the illusory glamor of cheap imitation is captivating.
Ignored, still I cry out. Trampled upon, still I reach with open arms. When will you embrace me? When will your wandering cease and your flourishing begin? Worldy devices I have not to offer; you don’t need them anyway. But spiritual security is within my grasp. Eternal significance is my colleague.
I Am Hope.
In Jesus Christ alone is my residence. Openly. Unashamedly. Uniquely.
“Let thy mercy, O Lord, be upon us, according as we hope in thee.”
– Psalm 33:22.
Grace and Peace,