Held

My last post spoke of rejection, and of fellowship with the Lord experienced. Through knowing rejection I shared His suffering and pain—horrible, deep, raw pain.

The Lord is merciful. He allowed me fellowship in His suffering, and He gave me fellowship in His love. If the last months have been a time of unprecedented agony, they have also been a season of previously unknown intimacy. This blog began as a chronicle of moments when the Lord’s presence embraced me in moments of anguish (though I wasn’t able to share the worst moments.) And I suspect that like childbirth, the intensity of pain will one day be forgotten. I won't lose sight of the fact that it really, really hurt. But the more enduring memory will be of love which overshadowed the pain.

Sorrow often overwhelmed me beyond comprehension. I continually turned to a reliable haven of safety, my God the Lord. Abba. Jesus was there too. And the Holy Spirit is always present. Each of their distinct personalities enfolded me in comfort with a different touch, a particular manner of speaking, a separate dimension of love which pressed into my soul, reaching a place no human can touch.

Paul said, "I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead." (Philippians 3:10-11 NIV)

To again experience such love, I now know I am capable to endure such pain. I could face it without fear, knowing I'd not only be not alone, I'd also be carried.

I'd be held.

The sweetness of intimacy with the Lord is a taste of Heaven—a promise of what is yet to come in the resurrection of the dead. Like a lover's kiss that infuses one with desire for all that will follow, drawing desperately near to the Lord ignites a hope for all He's promised which infuses strength for the hour.

My other blog will say more tomorrow, with a different tone for a different audience. But both posts will include these words from a song which compels me to affirm "Yes Lord!" when asked if I will wait upon the Lord, however long the hour.

This is what it is to be loved
and to know that the promise was
when everything fell
we'd be held.

If hope is born of suffering—
if this is only the beginning—
can we not wait for one hour
watching for our Savior? *

*Lyrics from "Held" by Christa Wells © 2001 Weimarhymes Publishing Inc.