Cry, Baby

1d7293c7321787ad62f0955dc6b15c70Hard to believe God loves you when nobody else ever did.  “Know” it, yes.  With your mind.  Intellectual assent.  But down deep into your Spirit?  Soaking through to your damaged Soul?  Hard.  Dripping tiny mercy drops down into your very body?  Almost impossible.

We have to want to real bad.  Have to ask Him to help us get it.  A lot.  Have to lay on the bathroom floor sobbing, yet still willing to say “I trust Your love.”  A miracle, really.

Faith is a powerful thing.  So long as we are sure it is faith in Him.  Faith in the sun or in the dark.  Faith in the joy and the suffering.  And not faith in our formula for getting what we want from Him.  He knows what we need.  Our faith is in the power to trust Him with all of it, even the tears.

Our tears are not a shame, not a sign on our back that says “Kick me.”  Not a letter from home that says “Let me tell you what your problem is.”  They are holy.  And He keeps them forever:

   “You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears 
                     in Your bottle.You have recorded each one in your book.”  Psalm 56:8

Did you know that God saves all your tears? And what He does with them
is holy.
Eternal. Glorious. Only that much Love can melt that much pain
and make that
much glory. I do not know all of His answers, but I know that
one. I will pray for
you to know it too.    — The Patron Saint of Misfits

 

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