A Little Game of He Said/He Said

wash in truthWhen words cut to the very heart of your soul, there is only one way to heal, and that is to replace them with truth. It’s time for a little game of he said/He said.

he said…
I don’t love you anymore.

HE said…
You are loved with an everlasting love that is steadfast, and nothing can separate you from that love. (Jer. 31:3, Psalms, Romans 8:35-39)

he said…
I’ve been trying to escape you.

HE said…
I’ve been pursuing you since the moment of creation. (Proven over and over in His Word.)

he said…
I choose someone else over you.

HE said…
I chose you. (John 15:16)

he said…
I don’t know if I ever wanted you.

HE said…
I have wanted you since before time began, and I prayed for you over 2,000 years ago, that you would be one with me. (John 17:20-21)

he said…
You are not attractive enough.

HE said…
I created you as a beautiful image of Myself. (Genesis 1:27)

he said…
You are not important enough for me to truly get to know you deeply.

HE said…
I know everything about you from the hairs on your head to the thoughts in your thinker. I know you inside and out and back again, and you are precious to me. (Luke 12:7, Psalm 139)

he said…
I do not take pride and joy in you.

HE said…
You are fearfully and wonderfully made, and everything that I make is good. I am proud of you, My Creation. (Psalm 139:13-16)

Hear, oh my heart. Hear these words. Let them seep into every jagged crack, filling in those broken places, making you whole. He will rebuild you and make beauty from ashes. He is God, and He can be trusted.

“You Carry My Bag?”

file0002140147781“Tall mocha,” the barista called. I reached for my coffee, hoping it would wake me, even just a little. I had been awake since midnight and now it was 5:30 a.m. My flight would leave in just thirty minutes.

As I turned from the Starbucks counter, I spotted the cutest, most pathetic thing I have ever seen. A very sleepy toddler boy stumbled behind his mom, all cozy in his fuzzy, fire truck footie jammies, a very full child sized backpack slung over his shoulders.

“Just a liiiiitle bit further,” his mom encouraged, but the poor guy just could not go on any longer. He collapsed to his knees and planted his face on the carpet.

“No more walk, Mom.” he moaned.

His mother knelt down beside him. “Ah, sweetie. You’re tired, aren’t you?”

“You carry my bag?” was his muffled reply.

“I’ll do more than that,” she answered, as she slipped off his backpack. “I’ll take your backpack, and I’ll carry you.” She swung the backpack onto her already weighted down shoulder and scooped up her son. He promptly snuggled his sleepy little head into the crook of her neck and lay limp in her arms.

And I smiled. A smile that felt warm in my chest. And suddenly, I felt just like that little boy. Relaxed. Cared for. Loved. Held.

I have a Father. A strong and gentle Father. He lets me carry my load when I think I’m big enough and strong enough, but He knows that I am not as strong as I think. And when I fall to my knees and press my nose into the carpet, begging Him to carry my load, He takes more than my burden. He scoops me up, holds me close, and carries me to the end.

Then I can relax and just let go, because I am cared for. Loved. Held. And that is a beautiful, beautiful thing.