When I hush the world, all of the sorrow and screaming scenes-
When I grow still within and shush myself, the fretting and the feeling-
When I push pause on everything around me, silence falls like a blanket and Just Give Me Jesus is all that I hear.
As I push play and resume living in myself, my home, my world, this is what I must clutch…
Just give Me Jesus.
The last I wrote, I shared about all the pink, the pain and provision that surfaced in February- the dying and resurrection that always come when we grieve Anna. The first of March I lurch forward desperate for Spring. Today I am breathing in the fresh, fragrant air of April, young blossoms bursting with the promise of new life. And I feel…very similar to my February self.
Bombs explode, buildings cave in, bodies break, hearts break, children drown and babies die every month of the year. Spring does not eliminate excruciating sadness.
Just Give Me Jesus I scream from the inside out.
Just give me the One who can save us all from this infected world, save our souls from the chaos of sin, our bodies from the diagnosis of death. And in my urgent pleading there is a sudden revelation, as if I have just figured something out, though I assure you the revelation has come a hundred, a thousand times before, and it is this:
I already have it, the answer. I already have the Him for which my heart screams.
Just give me Jesus…and He is here.
The slowing begins. My breath stops running and begins walking. The smile creeps on. The sun rises and rays of truth splinter through dark thoughts and feelings. And my feet- I feel them pounding hard on hard earth and suddenly this whole complicated world is just a map for which the answer can be poured out upon. I feel joyfully urgent in the proclamation of a word, a name, an answer.
There are longings in my heart- deep ones, complicated ones yet to be satisfied. Will they ever? I try my best to keep the longing buried. I cover it with heap after heap of all that I am grateful for. But life happens, storms come, winds blow and the longing lays bare. These are the moments when all I can do is see it. And then I feel it, this terrific ache that is too heavy to hold that needs to be placed somewhere strong. So into His hands it goes once more. How many times I wonder, has He received my groaning, my weeping, dripping petitions to Him?
Just give Me Jesus.
Just give me the author of the best, truest story ever told. The one that holds me like a pen and writes my life out, sentences layered with brokenness and wholeness. Seasons go by and pages turn and the words just keep getting better even if they get worse because the author, He is Jesus.
This afternoon I watched April showers and a lone bird, wind-blown and bouncing on the maple branch just outside my bedroom window. Even under the melting world, she sang her tune. We shared a moment and then off she flew. She was notes and wings and then she was soaring, flapping amidst falling sky. I took it all in. I smiled.
Just Give Me Jesus.
Sing it with me?