Sometimes life tears wide-open.
I spent a day this past week in the insurance office trying to straighten out a mess that I didn’t make. That was directly on the heels of a two-hour wait in the radiology department of the hospital. The question of cancer in one of my dearest people sending shivers down my spine.
The bitter taste of a fallen world.
Evening comes and I’m teaching a lesson to a crowd of fifth-graders. We’re squished inside a tiny building, talking about the crowds that would come to see Jesus. The people who pressed in, desperate to be healed by Him.
We hear the cries from outside, “Jesus, we need you!” the shuffling of feet. The men try to break through but the crowd is large enough to keep them out. There is no way to get the lame man to the feet of Jesus.
All around me eyes are widening in wonder as the scraping and pounding echoes. They brighten in awe as the roof tears away. The sling lowers and the “lame” man is set at the feet of Jesus.
And my soul is crying in agony, “Please, Lord, let me find a way to your feet.”
What roof must I tear off?
What crowd do I need to outwit?
Then night comes and I walk into the barn and smell the metallic scent of blood rather than hay and manure. My husband is running and I follow and cringe at his ashen face as he turns toward me.
It’s bad. A new mother cow went crazy. Stomped her beautiful heifer calf to bits. I’ve never seen such a thing. It’s bloody and putrid and one.more.thing.
I’m going to crumble.
But I don’t.
I work and cry.
Words start running. Wrap themselves tight. I asked her, you see, for words of wisdom about facing infertility. And this isn’t, really, about infertility—it’s just about life. The messy, bloody and sad of life.
But that’s the wonder of God.
The One who sends what we need; the thoughts, the pieces of freedom; through the most unexpected places.
She wrote them true. A testimony.
“I do not need to feel guilt or condemnation, if sometimes, in the midst of the wind and pounding waves all I can do is hang onto Jesus by the tips of my fingernails and determine in my heart that I won’t ever let go.” – Rhonda Freed
I’m spreading fresh straw and bright red is seeping through crumbling stalks, and fingernails are tearing, but I won’t ever let go.
Because there is only one man who commands the wind and waves.
And the fact rings true:
I can’t control Him.
But I won’t ever let go because no one else, no one else, has the words of life.
When morning comes the messages arrive. A text, an email, a facebook comment, “Hey, thinking of you. Praying for you.” I haven’t said anything. My words stayed whispered deep. But God is answering.
The feeling of clawing the edge of His robe fades. Arms are wrapping—and I don’t even have to cling because I’m being held.
Are you feeling desperate as you cling to Him? Are you hearing His whispered comfort? Is there any way I can be praying for you? (drop me an email if you don’t want it posted in the comments section, natashametzler at gmail dot com)
“After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper.” I Kings 19:12