Yet God was with him.
These words leapt off the page as I was reading. I’m trying to move past them, but I can’t.
I keep thinking back to two years ago to when my husband left me. I’ve never known harder, darker days. And the nights were even worse. The minute my head hit the pillow every night 6 million thoughts simultaneously filled my mind. I was so overwhelmed with grief I was often physically ill. Many nights the only thing I could do was grab my Bible and hold it to me like my life depended on it. And it did.
During the day I would spend hours reading the Word. Psalms mostly. But at night I just needed to feel the weight of it. Night after night my leather bound, extra-thick study bible would find its way from my bedside table into my arms. Most nights I fell asleep with the Word pressed down upon my heart.
It’s been a long time since those dark nights. The Word slowly and methodically washed my wounds and healed me. But some nights my heart still hurts. Some nights I still need the Word thick and heavy on my heart.
Tonight is one of those nights. Tonight my heart hurts, but not for me. It hurts for the nameless girl I drove past today. Weeping over coffee as her friend held tight to her arm. It was all I could do to not stop the car and rush to her.
It hurts over the news of another strong, Godly woman in ministry who is facing divorce. The news of it so crushing to me I had to stop my car and weep in the parking lot.
It hurts for the friend holding the hand of a mother fighting cancer. Hurts so bad it’s hard to breath. Hasn’t she endured enough trouble in this life already?
It hurts for the girls I’m praying for every day that I’ll be leading a retreat for next month. Girls who have never known love. Never known home. Never known what it means to be wanted.
Sometimes the pain of life is tangible. On those days I feel so small. So unable to help. I long for arms big enough and strong enough to hold all the hurting ones until the pain goes away.
Since I can’t, I do the only thing I know to do. I grab the thick weighty Word of God. I open fragile pages filled with strength and read the Words of hope… Yet God was with him.
Yet God. With us.
In the darkness. In the grief. In the waiting. In the wondering. In the weeping. God-with-us. Emmanuel.
He came. Came so you wouldn’t be alone. The Word became flesh and dwelt among us. He dwells with us now. Word made flesh. Thick, strong, weighty words wrapped in skin, crucified and brought to life so you wouldn’t ever have to face the dark night alone. Words that hold us when we’re reeling through life. Words that refresh us when we are dried up and dead inside. Words that sustain us when all strength has been stolen from us. Words that carry us when we are too weak to walk.
Yet God is with you.
I don’t know how alone you feel tonight. But I do know that no matter how alone you feel you are not alone. He is with you. He will never leave you or forsake you. He will never let go. His love never fails. Sweet daughter of God, hold tight to that tonight.
Yet God is with you!