The ten by ten inch wooden tile is handed to me at a park while my kids zoom around on scooters and bikes, and my friend’s almost six month old baby tries to stand in her mother’s arms.
The words, arranged in tucked away clumps on the sides of the tile’s face, shout to me, in love:
And my friend smiles and says, “I knew you would love it,” and I do; I love it. My heart jumps when I read the words because their truths resonate deeply and make everything in me stir.
We find what we look for. . .
I have been found, and my claimed heart seeks His all the more because of it. He lets me find Him because I am the found one, the treasured one.
Tell me more . . .
He asks me to tell Him more, and I do — most of the time. But I hold back a lot of my heart often, and the One who always listens, always cares about each detail of my life, each choice I stumble or rise to make, waits and lets me come close, where I can feel His heart beating in mine. He is the present one, the solid one, and I ask for forgiveness for my quietness, my withdrawing from Him.
Captured by His love, pour out your heart like a waterfall overflowing. Your father, who knows each thought, each emotion, each urge and whim that dances through, leans in to hear, not wanting to miss a thing.
Hear me seeing you . . .
I want my words to be a salve, His words in me to press into my heart and take root there. I want to choose the good soil and let my Gardener tend my heart. He brings water to quench my thirst and His light for me to rise and see His face. Father, let me respond to You with joy — and bloom.
See the garden blooming, where the gardener bends low, with care, touching with sure figures each petal, each stalk, each seed taking root and bursting forth from the ground. His care brings forth beauty and promise, life of which He is in charge — if the plant surrenders care of itself and lets the Gardener do the watering.
For I was a stranger and you welcomed me . . .
My hand beats on the door, this door that I have walked through but that I knock on again, even though I am on the other side. For I need Him. There is the door I walk through, to have no separation between myself and my Father, and there are the doors of my heart that my Savior knocks on, asking for permission to come in, to shine light, to bring truth and to heal. For I am no stranger, no lost sheep, no abandoned child, forgotten and out of sight. Does my heart bring with it welcome when He knocks, again? Do I run to Jesus when He asks me to give up the hard thing that separates me from Him, that tears my heart and makes me weak, without Him? Do I accept His offers or reject them? Do I hear His heart beat in the voice of the lonely, the desperate, the cast-off? Do I see?
Open the door when the knock resounds, for there is healing He brings, this Friend-Lord-Savior who knows where the pain lies, the wounds pressing deep. This invitation to welcome Him in turns the world upside down, so that with Him within hearts, the knocking continues, with our hand pressing gently upon that stranger’s door.
Just be . . .
The wounds surface time and again, the belief I am not good enough, that I don’t have a voice, that my heart is cold and not capable of showing love. And You scoop me up and remind me that I am perfectly made, adored, Your daughter in whom You delight. So, I know the truth is that, as each of Your children, I must be special, and I must have a voice, this desire that beats inside me to be communicated and heard. And I also must have a heart, a heart that, when united with Yours — Your heart of tender, fierce compassion, love, and grace — exudes love, too.
There is nothing to be done to be loved more than you are. There is nothing to be done to be more adored, cherished, and welcomed into His arms. And once there, resting in His arms, feeling His heart beat against your chest as you press close, He will show you more how He pursues you, how He longs for you to let Him continue to cleanse and make you whole. We are not fully ourselves — stunningly beautiful and filled with His love — until we let Him let us be fully His.
WE FIND WHAT WE LOOK FOR
tell me more
hear me seeing you
for I was a stranger and you welcomed me
What are you seeking?
What does He long to tell you?
Do you hear Him seeing you?
Do you welcome Him into each door of your heart?
Can you rest, knowing you are enough: His beloved, dearly cherished and adored?