Sun rise setting the world on fire with living gold. New mercies. My son takes me by the hand. To the open door. We stand and listen, together, to the birds singing spring. Beautiful. God's promise of rebirth in a love song. Lyrics from the psalms. Don't rush. Close eyes and let golden light filter through eyelids while the birds serenade hope.
The day brings tough news. Heart breaking news. It is in the hard places that we must be caught by the Rock. Cling to Him. His help wraps around us, a quilt of promises, and He reaches for our hands. Will we bless Him in the desert? Will we thank Him for the suffering? The sorrow? Allow Him to use it to conform us into His image?
Think of birds singing songs of hope. Think of Philippians 4:6-9. " Don't worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank Him for all He has done. Then you will experience God's peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus."
There is something deeply holy in walking this way with Jesus. We can be tucked and hidden away in His love while the world falls apart all around. The sense of His delight in us allowing Him to work the hard thing in and out is precious. To be still. Intimate. Intimately aquainted with Him here. To stand while the world is pulling out our beards. Spitting judgement. How else can we identify with what Jesus laid on the wooden line? To suffer such brokenness. Such deep failure. My humiliation becomes a secret, silent gift. Just between the Lord and me. Nobody here but us, in the quiet places that only He knows. That only He can redeem. We are like two hands folded together in prayer. His big hand. My little one. A perfect fit, and to be layed so low feels good. Feels right. Feels God.