One of those weeks, one of those days, nights, moments....years. Everything blurred together and nothing to grab onto. Plenty of: "abuse, accidents, opposition, bad breaks". Yet in all of it He stays here. Right here. My Shepherd calls and I answer through the blur..."When do I end? Can't you just take me out of me? You can do anything!" But it isn't the easy road that makes me remember. It isn't the "gift to the Lord that costs me nothing" that sticks with me. What costs, I become. What aches, delivers. What shifts and shakes and turns underneath me brings me to steady ground.
If there were no words in our language for how we feel, if we had no way to express our anguish, exhaustion, joy, fear or relief, He would still know it all. What refreshment it is to me this morning (the morning after the long night) to know even if I can't open my mouth He will hear me. He will "groan" for me. Even my lamentation will resolve and dissolve itself inside of Him. Big, big God. Big, big grace. Simple like a child's song but no less powerful as we believe Him.
"Because of the extravagance of those revelations, and so I wouldn't get a big head, I was given the gift of a handicap to keep me in constant touch with my limitations. Satan's angel did his best to get me down; what he in fact did was push me to my knees. No danger then of walking around high and mighty! At first I didn't think of it as a gift, and begged God to remove it. Three times I did that, and then He told me, "My grace is enough; it's all you need. "My strength comes into it's own in your weakness." "Once I heard that, I was glad to let it happen. I quit focusing on the handicap and began appreciating the gift. It was a case of Christ's strength moving in on my weakness. Now I take limitations in stride, and with good cheer, these limitations that cut me down to size--abuse, accidents, opposition, bad breaks. I just let Christ take over! And so the weaker I get, the stronger I become."