I scratch it out in the margins of my Bible, right there at the top of the header, John 5:7. I can’t find paper fast enough to scribble it down, all this sin, the conviction of my troubled heart, Your coming for me, again.
I am doubting You again, doubting that You love me, and I look with envy at those whom I believe You must love more. And I am alone, here, in my sin, my comparison, my envy.
And I search for what enables me to write it in the first place, prompting me to heed the whispers that tell this little girl heart that she is not worth as much as another, that her words, her work, her love will never be enough — enough to claim the love of Him who gives Life.
And I know I am lost here.
And I want, more than anything, to be found.
For as much as I let the whispers break me down, there is the more beautiful melody of hope that keeps me coming back to knowing that, truly, these dark whispers aren’t a bit true.
And He lets me know, like He does, that these stirrings in my heart, toward love, away from darkness, are Him, and this is what He says,
Child, you are believing again that I do not love you.
Yes, I am believing again that I have to earn this — this love I know You have — and I know I can’t.
And I want to earn it, Father! I want to prove myself to You when I believe You couldn’t possibly love me, like this, with all I’ve done, and with all I do. I have this urge to chase You down, desperately, to prove myself to You; but I am immobile, in my sin. Because I forget, again, that You took it all.
I hear the pounding feet of another coming, and I am scared, Father, of all this darkness chasing me down. I am in it — I fear I am still here — and You come up closely, quietly, feet treading surely, across the waters, through my storm.
How can you believe, when you receive glory from one another and you do not seek the glory that is from the one and only God? (John 5:44).
Oh, Father, forgive me. I know You forgive me, that You already have, and I thank You for Your showing me what gets in the way of You. For I am lost here, without You, when I try to earn something, in vain, for what I don’t and can never deserve.
It is grace, here, child. I give you grace.
Jesus reminds me,
I can do nothing on My own initiative. . . I do not seek My own will, but the will of Him who sent Me (John 5:30).
And I turn again, heart open wide to light, wounds exposed, willing to be healed.
Sweet friend, how do you, this moment, need rescue?