We who look to Christ for strength

When I grow up, I want to be able to write as Deanna. Today started out as a great day, but suddenly I feel like the weight of the world is on my shoulders and all I wish to do is get up and walk and think until, am out of things to think. Or maybe walking and having a blank mind would be even greater.

 Life wears us down but thank God for Jesus Christ, He truly is a rock and refuge to anyone who calls to him. And so I have taken a moment and called to Him for strength. 

 Enjoy the read and your day! 

 http://deannadavis.wordpress.com/2012/09/18/normal-is-so-fragile-jesus-is-so-not/

Normal Is So Fragile – Jesus Is So Not

18 09 2012

 

 

 

 

 

 

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What a difference a day makes. Less than 15 hours ago life was cruising along – at light speed to be sure…but cruising along nonetheless. Then, in a moment, life came crashing to a halt.
Most have had this happen. One moment all is fine. The next, it is not. Normal is so fragile.
Jeff has been sick for a while. We thought it was a bacterial infection, easily treatable. We kept waiting for him to get better. Turns out it was more than that. One phone call from the doctor and we were on our way to the operating room.
Fear. “What if’s”. Conversations husbands and wives sometimes never get to have. Never want to have.
Who knew our normal was so fragile?
So now we begin a journey into ‘next, into a ‘new normal’. And it is fragile too.
God makes promises to His children…but sometimes He answers them in such unexpected ways. In ways that we don’t see coming. In ways that take a while, maybe a long while, to wrap our hearts around. “Working things out for my good” sometimes isn’t anywhere near my definition of  ”good”. He promises to be near – but that doesn’t mean I’ll see Him. He says He loves me with an everlasting love – and it may be nothing like my experience with and understanding of love.
Yet…
Here are a few things I’ve learned through the years as I’ve walked with Jesus – through pain so deep I couldn’t breathe, through night so dark, I wasn’t sure the light would come on again. These are truths I have learned and earned and owned in the trenches of following Him wherever He has led. These, I lean on, cling to and cuddle up to sleep with at night:
My external circumstances are not an accurate gauge of how He loves me.  And whether He rescues or not, in the manner of my preference or not – that also is not an accurate gauge of how He loves me.
How He loves me was forever settled on the cross – not in the stuff of earth in which I so easily lose myself. How He loves me is measured in how He walks with me – into the unknown, into the full expression of my fear. In how He talks with me – when I desperately need to hear from Him. In how He tells me I am His own – even when logic tries to scream the contrary. And His presence is never nearer, His voice is never clearer than when He has my fullest attention. Pain has a beautiful way of focusing things. Of sifting and shifting what I thought  was so solid – and now realize is so sift-able and shift-able.
Normal may be fragile.
But Jesus is not. He lodges Himself inextricably, permanently in my heart, in my pain, in my experience. As I get knocked around and absorb the blows life throws, He holds me. Hugs me. Grabs my face with both hands and speaks love to me until I hear Him. He may not prevent the bruises and wounds. But He heals them. Blesses them. He makes them more than what they appear. He makes them a doorway – to more of Him. To more of what truly comforts. To a place where my feet stand solid in His presence. To a place where my heart rests.
He is where I eventually land in a free fall. And I am thankful that as I crash into Him, He is not fragile.