A deer, a dear, and a miracle..
Tonight, I’m reflecting on a dozen facets of God’s faithfulness to me. And I’m sharing three of them…
Two years ago these elegant creatures became extraordinarily precious to me through an intricate series of events – painful and redemptive… Miraculous even. In a wrenching season of life, God chose to speak to me through these gentle animals. And 8 weeks ago, He revived the sign of the deer for me. It’s a good story. A great one, in fact. Perhaps one day I’ll share it.
For now, my heart jumps at the sight of these beauties, and the secret poignancy of the deer exists like a whisper between my heart and God’s.
He is so very near to us, drawing close to speak softly into our ears of the lavish redemption and grace He has in store.
Be eager for your future, friend. In Christ, it carries extraordinary joy.
Next, a dear 😉
I have a friend named Kristina. She is the sort of friend everyone needs, but few have. I can look her square in the eyes and tell her all of my ugliest mistakes and failures in a jumbled mess of raw, vulnerable honesty. And in those eyes – looking steadily back into mine – I see a smile and an unequivocal embrace. It’s as if her eyes say, “That’s it?” This woman has received me a dozen times (after some failure or flounder) with the warmest, sincerest, most guileless love I’ve yet seen on this planet.
She is worth knowing. I wish I could introduce her to every one of you.
But in lieu of direct introductions, I’ll share her blog – well worth some lingering: http://krisashby.wordpress.com/
(Kristina and I on our way to a friend’s wedding yesterday… clearly being unfairly cool 😉 )
I read through a few of my old journals tonight.
Journals written in the thick of an eating disorder.
Journals written out of the pain of compulsion.
Journals written with an unbearable ache to be free.
And I sat on the floor of my room thinking that I am living a miracle. God knows I’m living a miracle. I should not be free like this. I should not have peace like this. I should not be so at rest. Not after years of drilling a thousand compulsions into my own brain. Not after weaving my own suffocating cocoon of fear and insecurity.
But here I am. I am free. I look at my own reflection in the mirror, and I see what was missing for ten years: I see peace.
I could cry over this reality. Right now. While I type.
There is nothing so sweet – so intimate – as realizing you were never left to yourself. Not ever. Not even in the moments you doggedly ran from everything that God wanted for you.
He is more stubborn than we could dream of being, and He will give us what our hearts yearn for most ravenously: He will give us Himself and all the glorious freedom that is found in His arms.
My face is no longer sunken and hollowed from an eating disorder… It is no longer etched with creases of constant anxiety and fear.
This peace is my miracle. And God will not stop until you find your’s, however impossible you now think it.
Further up and further in, friends.