Dear God, I descended into the shadowlands today. A specter of fear wrapped his cold, cruel fingers around my heart and led me into his chamber of treachery, a sanitary cube of torment that once again enclosed my mind in darkness. Can any instrument of torture deliver cruelty as savage as love betrayed? Does a dungeon’s rack stretch a body as sadistically as betrayal stretches trust? Can faith endure a traitor’s sinister hand as it turns the wheel, each notch testing conviction until the sword of despair separates peace from its rightful habitat? He bared my skin. He pierced my flesh. He robbed more than my life’s blood; with his brazen face and callous dismissal, he robbed my innocence. He shattered my image of a father’s love. Once upon a time, a tall, strong knight took my little hand and led me to the edge of a cliff. Comforted by his powerful grip, I felt no fear, for this valiant knight would never let me fall. Below lay the jagged rocks, the raging river, and a thousand feet of cold, empty air. As I leaned over the precipice, the joy of beholding danger with unflinching eyes flooded my soul. I have an anchor. I have a sure hold in the land of promise. My father would never let me go. Yet, he did let me go. Nay, he pushed me over the side. And now I fall, staring up at him as he coldly walks away. The wind chills my heart, and the certainty of eternal torment rushes at me with no savior in sight. God of wonders, catch me now in your loving hands. Fly down on your stallion and rescue me from this plunge into despair. Let us ride together, buoyed by wings of faith and energized by the love that delivered your only begotten son, for he is the king who catches his falling sparrows. Let us waltz together in this dance of death, for you have called me to suffer with you in willing sacrifice and to burn the image of your crucifixion in my heart. Let us live together in the light of your resurrection, for I cannot survive this walk of faith without the comfort of knowing that you will never let go of my hand. You are Jehovah-Jireh, my provider in times of trouble. You are Jehovah-Shalom, my peace in the midst of turmoil. And above all, you are Jehovah-Shammah, the god who is always there, a true father who rises to my aid when the specter has taken off his fatherly mask and exposed his treacherous heart. Ask me for my blood, and I will give it freely. Yea, ask me for my life, for you have already crucified me on Calvary’s hill and raised me from the dead, purging the life of sin I left behind. Ask me for my soul, for you have already paid for it with your own precious blood, the holy blood of Jehovah-Yasha, my savior. And now I see it. I can give you nothing that you have not already given to me. I am purchased, a slave of love. I am your vessel to be used in whatever way you wish. If you make me an urn for ashes, a common earthen jar to bear incinerated bones, leaving me to collect dust in a forgotten tomb, even then, I will be content. For just as you would not leave your son forever in the ground, I know you will raise me up from the land of the dead. You have not ignited this fire in my heart to be wasted in Sheol’s pit. Though dead, buried, and forgotten, I will rise again. No matter what happens, I will never forsake you, for you will never forsake me. You are with me, no matter where I go. Love, Bonnie Conner (Eye of the Oracle - Page 569-570)
Posted on: Sat, 30 Aug 2014 18:46:34 +0000
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