He surrounds himself with words. fine sounding arguments to deal with the broken places. i stand alone in his space and i read them and grieve over how far away from truth and real healing he is. i lose hope.
but i do remain in that place of acceptance. acceptance for where he is at and what he is able to give and receive. another kind of death assigned to me is this relationship. great glory goes to the Father of the fatherless for the way He enables me to love this man who is limited in his ability to love in return, to love in a way i desire to be loved. and there is still great weakness and fear that remains in how i’m relating. i am fully aware of the trembling inside when conversations begin to shift in uncomfortable directions. i find my own self coping through diversions and distractions, keeping things safe. i lose myself in the presence of others here, but when it is quiet, the One who gives sight to the blind helps me to see.
in the dark of the night we stand debating over another one far gone and a false prophet among us. the scene shifts and i find myself in an arena full of those held captive by Balaam and his deceptions. searching through my belongings, they grab hold of my blue bound book, the one with my name inscribed on the front. they empty it of the treasures i’ve tucked inside, passing them out to bystanders and mocking me in the process. i don’t care, i snatch it back-letting the little things go, knowing that the real treasure is the pages and words contained within. taking my seat, i’m discovered by the other truth bearers who’ve infiltrated these ranks and we band together standing united against the fray. it’s invigorating and delightful to find i’m not standing alone.
and then i wake up. it was only a dream.
i look over at his chair and i remember sara’s words. i remember how far the Mighty Warrior Jesus went to retrieve me. the dream brings into focus the truth of the battle, the truth of what i stand on and cling to, the truth that there are fellow soldiers who have infiltrated the enemy’s territory. i rise and retrieve that blue bound book with my name engraved on the front. The Spirit brings to mind words and i turn page after page searching them out. and then i breathe them in. my Hope Bearer fills me with renewed hope all the while reminding me of my source of worth and joy, lest i misunderstand and stumble into expectations and seeking where worth and joy cannot be found.
Oh Lord, You are my God! i will exalt You and praise Your name-
for in Perfect Faithfulness
You have done marvelous things…
This is what the Lord says;
I have seen his ways, BUT i will heal him;
I will guide him and restore comfort to him,
creating praise on the lips of the mourners in Israel.
Can plunder be taken from warriors?
or captives rescued from the fierce?
But this is what the Lord says;
captives will be taken
and plunder retrieved.
life begins when the Source of life retrieves. i know this.
i forgot this.
i have renewed hope for this one who surrounds himself with fine sounding arguments. he is seeking life where it cannot be found, but i do recognize that it is life that he is seeking. i also recognize that the current god he’s bowing to is successfully tricking him into thinking he’s found it and there is no hope in that. rather, my hope is in the Mighty One who is Mightier, the Powerful One who is more Powerful. that greater is He in me than he that is in the world. i hope because Life Himself retrieves captives from the fierce.
See now that I Myself am He!
there is no god besides Me.
I put to death and I bring to life,
I have wounded and I will heal,
and no one can deliver out of My hand.