So, I don't do this very often, but tonight I was looking back at old blog posts as today I have been reflecting on how different life looks now from what it was just a few months ago. It is creepy that I found a post written two and a half months ago that once again captures my exact heart cry today:
you are the God who sees me. The one who reminds me that I am never alone.
Yet this time, the cry of my heart came from a much different place. This was on the other side of all that I feared and knew I was about to begin, this time, today, it was the heart cry of a rejoicing heart. Of a heart that saw and recognized that God was with her and that you are the God who sees me.
"Yet in this we greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials..." 1 Peter 1:6
Today was profound in a number of ways. I cannot explain all that happened or how God started leading me into this time of celebration of all that has happened in my relationship with Him, but the last year has been a journey with God that has ultimately changed my life and how I relate to Him. How I see Him. He has given me His grace to experience Him in new ways, He has never been more real than ever and He has given me newness in my relationship with Him, pushing me into greater depths of His heart and revealing more of who He is and how much more there is to know and discover about Him. Strangely, in this process, I come home to myself and become more of myself. More loved, more known. Seen. Held. Received.
You are the God who sees me. Looking back at the start of what I knew would be an intense period, as during the week this post was written, first week of August, when I had just moved into my house and was in the most intense week of my grieving process, when everything looked and felt strange, where I didn't know if I was going to make it through, You were there. Reminding me that You would walk this out with me. Now two and a half months later, I am able to rejoice and look at all You have done, all the newness you would bring in the midst of my grief, all that You were waiting to provide, all that you knew was just around the corner. You knew the treasures that would be hidden in the darkness. You knew the gifts You had in store, as I faced the unknown. You are faithful. You were preparing me for this time. And reminding me, you always hear my cry. Thank you.
"In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed." 1 Peter 1:6-7
These trials have come why? So that my faith, which is of greater worth than gold, the most precious thing in my life, may be proved real. You have strengthened and increased my faith. You have brought me through and in this, I rejoice. The this means the trials are not over and the grief has not ended, but it means that even in the midst, we can rejoice.
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Post below written
Wednesday August 5, 2009:You are the God who sees me.
The one who reminds me that I am never alone.
The one whose voice breaks through even the deepest of heartaches, the fiercest of storms, and the most dense morning fog that only muddles the confusion,
You are the God who sees me.
Who reminds me that I am seen. And I am known.
A truth I can only hear in the silence.
Tucked away.
Far from the noise of all that surrounds me.
A truth I can only hear from your heart to mine.
That though I feel abandoned and alone, that I am seen.
That though I feel unknown and unwanted, I am known and wanted.
That though I feel unlovable, I am loved.
These truths broke through my heart's search on Saturday. During a wilderness retreat for women at our church. It couldn't have come at a more perfect time.
It was the most perfect of storms.
I was in the midst of a move, signaling a transition of support systems and houses, of what once was, to what will be, of ushering in change, whether I was ready or not.
My heart was unsettled. And I felt more alone than ever.
But it was a strange feeling. I knew I would be okay, I just wanted to know how long this void would last. How long this season would be of not having the relationships again that I had just lost.
But in those moments in silence, after taking about an hour to first allow Him to quiet my soul,
I found those words being whispered to my heart,
you are not alone.
It's only in solitude and in the silence where we can be reminded of all that we are.
Ruth Haley Barton says, in solitude, we find we are more than we thought, but we are also less than we thought.
We are reminded of how much our Savior loves us, yet we are less because it is solitude, in resting, that we are reminded that we are not God. We are not the god of our own little universe.
Solitude pulls us back into reality. We come face to face with all that we are. All of our neediness, our limitations, our humannness, our frailty, our need for God.
And it is there we are most loved.
Tenderly and fiercely.
It was there I heard the words I so desperately needed to hear.
The truth that has formed the bedrock to the what I am choosing to believe in the midst of change,
That I am seen and I am known and I am deeply loved.
There wasn't much more that made more sense to me than ever.
Those three things were all my heart needed to move forward that day.
Those words breathed life into my soul and gave me hope.
Gave me strength to face the rest of the day, not anxious, but excited about the new and the change that was being ushered in
because i no longer was going, or feeling like i was going, alone.
You are the God who sees me.
You have heard my prayers and promise to never leave me or forsake me.
I can ground my hope in the promise of your word.
I can choose to trust your word over my feelings. Over my circumstances.
You give me strength to trust you even when I don't see.
You are the solid rock on which I stand.
You are the God who sees me. - Written Aug. 5, 2009
