Monday, February 24, 2014

He Lifts Us

The sky is ashy and pale as I back out of our slushy driveway. 


For the first time in weeks. 

I have a doctor's appointment--

Worried; thinking of Debbie, thinking of her little face as I left -- knowing that she will be safe and cared-for while I'm gone; my Mama is with her -- but feeling so strange without her little person following me here and there and everywhere . . . 

Frustrated; by situations out of my control, by the "clutter" of life, the "clutter" of anxious thoughts, the "clutter" of trying to neatly figure everything out--

Situations, beyond my control, rise up like serpentine phantoms and the tears come -- and I force them away. 

Frustrated, overwhelmed-

Drive down the familiar street, the street where I've lived, played on, ridden my bike up and down, for the past 31 years. The street that has been so familiarly comforting to me.  

But it's icy now, covered by a thick sheet of glassy laminate and I turn the corner and it's the same, so I creep along. I try to brake and the brakes don't take, so I slow down even more. 

Where has that old familiar pavement vanished?  

And I creep along until suddenly the ice is gone and I can drive again on clean pavement and know that the wheels are gripping something. 

My husband has a CD in the player -- I don't know what it is, but I turn on the volume and the sweet music fills our old car with grace and light. 

I'v never heard this CD before -- a collection of hymns -- Chris Rice -- and I listen. And the music ministers to my weary, hungry soul. 

It is well with my soul . . . 

How Great Thou art . . . 

Speak to me, Lord; I am listening now. I wasn't before. 

Too preoccupied with my own worries, fears -- and now the tears come again, but they are not tears of anxiety, but tears of rest and peace. 

The music speaks to my soul; He speaks to my soul. 


He has never failed us -- will He now? 

Rock of ages, cleft for me -- let me hide myself in Thee--

In Thee -- the All Sufficient One -- and sing--

Before the throne of God above
I have a strong and perfect plea.
A great high Priest whose Name is Love
Who ever lives and pleads for me.
My name is graven on His hands,
My name is written on His heart.
I know that while in heaven He stands
No tongue can bid me thence depart.
No tongue can bid me thence depart.

When Satan tempts me to despair
And tells me of the guilt within,
Upward I look and see Him there
Who made an end to all my sin.
Because the sinless Savior died
My sinful soul is counted free.
For God the just is satisfied
To look on Him and pardon me.
To look on Him and pardon me.

Behold Him there the risen Lamb,
My perfect spotless righteousness,
The great unchangeable I AM,
The King of glory and of grace,
One with Himself I cannot die.
My soul is purchased by His blood,
My life is hid with Christ on high,
With Christ my Savior and my God!

And this is what I've discovered in my life--that it's not so much that He meets me where I 

am, but that He lifts me up to where He is -- plants my feet on a "Rock that is higher than 

I," where I couldn't pick myself up, couldn't pick up my emotions, couldn't change my 

circumstances. He lifts me up to where He is--my great high Priest who is seated at the 

right hand of God-- and my name is written on his nail-torn hands. 

Praise His name . . . 

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