Good Friday, two days
ago, I got a late day call from the doctor that I have this condition that she
thought I might have. She said that basically I am full of these tumors and that
I would need a hysterectomy. I had thought I was past anything being
wrong but just being in unexplained pain. I thought I would rejoice in a
diagnosis, but that is when I thought I knew what I had. Now with
something new and unknown, but needing to be taken care of, I found myself
taken by surprise.
I went to service and
found it hard to concentrate. It was a communion service and I worried
that I could not give proper focus to Jesus with such a burden on my heart.
I listened to the sermon and I could see scenes from The Passion of
Christ as the pastor talked. That is when I knew how much my Savior had
paid a price for me. It is one thing to read it, it is another to feel it
come off the screen at you.
After the bread had
been passed out and we were silently praying I was trying to repent of my
worry, my failings, my weakness... all the weight I was carrying and just focus
on how great our Savior is. I was praising His name and His attributes,
but was having a hard time focusing as I felt my husband had his arm around me.
I was so acutely aware of it's presence and the way he comfortingly
stroked my back that I found myself caught up in that. I opened my eyes
to tell him I couldn't concentrate and I saw his hands were folded in his lap
as he, too, prayed.
I dropped my head and was again shocked for
the second time that night. Taking in that the whole time I was praying and
wanting to focus on the Lord he was right there with his arm around me.
There could be no other explanation. I took communion with a peace in my
heart and a renewed appreciation for how the Lord knows what it is to need
silent encouragement.
I thought about Him in
the garden before they came and arrested him. He left his disciples and
asked them to watch and pray and he went off to be by himself to pray.
Earnestly praying. Please read Luke 22:39-46. Things just
didn't seem to go right and his disciples proved to be of no strength and
encouragement. When he could not take much more 'An angel from
heaven appeared to him and strengthened him'.
One day at a time, with its failures and fears. Whether it was an Angel or the Lord himself matters little to me because both come from God. A loving God that saw my anguish and my true love for Him and comforted me in a personal way; no words were necessary.
I think about when I
lost my Grammie and the only thing I could handle was my husband holding me as
my very being mourned the loss.
What a loving God we
have. I pray that if you are not walking close with our Lord or do not
know Him that you will read the "Healing the Hole in Your Heart" tab
at the top of the page. You will never receive comfort like what the Lord
gives. Praying you receive the comfort you need today.
A very good poem :)
ONE DAY AT A TIME
By Annie Johnson Flint
With its hurts and
mistakes, with its weakness and tears,
With its portion of
pain and its burden of care;
One day at a time we
must meet and must bear.
One day at a time to
be patient and strong;
To be calm under trial
and sweet under wrong;
Then its toiling shall
pass and its sorrow shall cease;
It shall darken and
die, and the night shall bring peace.
One day at a time –
but the day is so long,
And the heart is not
brave, and the soul is not strong,
O Thou pitiful Christ,
be Thou near all the way;
Give courage and
patience and strength for the day.
Swift cometh His
answer, so clear and so sweet;
“Yea, I will be with
thee, thy troubles to meet;
I will not forget
thee, nor fail thee, nor grieve;
I will not forsake
thee; I never will leave.”
Not yesterday’s load
we are called on to bear,
Nor the morrow’s
uncertain and shadowy care;
Why should we look
forward or back with dismay?
Our needs, as our
mercies, are but for the day.
One day at a time, and
the day is His day;
He hath numbered its
hours, though they haste or delay.
His grace is
sufficient; we walk not alone;
As the day, so the
strength that He giveth His own.
No comments:
Post a Comment