The day started early. I rolled over and picked up my phone just to piddle like I do when I’m relaxed. Then I saw that someone I love had called at an hour that could only mean something was wrong. Bolting upright, I scurried to a part of the house where I could be free to talk with the volume distress always provokes in me, and dialed this one I love. The words I heard concocted a strange soup of desperation, frustration, and deep concern in my heart. I was in rescue mode. I threw out the lifeline of hope, but my loved one was hard-pressed to take hold of it. The tears of my loved one tears shook me internally while my own failed to come until the lengthy call was over.
I texted several friends for prayer. “I can’t bear this alone,” I thought, “but who will stand with me, kneel with me at this intruding hour?” A few who came to mind were having their own crises, but I didn't remember that until after pressing “send”.
Before the dings and chimes indicated replies from folks whose sleep I may have interrupted, God was my only audience. A prayer with three words was all I could choke out over and over. A rebuke about "vain repetition" made a rude appearance in my mind. The love of Jesus kicked it out and reminded me that His Spirit could decipher the paragraphs my heart was praying in those three words.
Friends texted their support and I replied with gratitude.
I retired back to bed with my Bible, thumbing through the psalms for comfort. At first, the songs weren’t appropriate, happy beats on a heart that felt beaten. Then my eyes landed on a psalm that thundered with the anger I was feeling toward my loved one’s oppressors. Thank you, King David, for keeping it real and writing it down just like you felt it! Our God’s ears don’t have to be coddled. He’s the author of those emotions that won’t perch right in a pew, as well as those that feel holier.
I checked my email to avoid my distress’s cold stare and found a new email from an old friend. Pregnant with the kind of encouragement that destined it to be printed and posted on my bathroom mirror, the letter felt like a kiss from God. It had nothing to do with my sore spot, but it helped with the sting all the same.
Thank you, Lord, for caring friends. Thank You for hearing what I can’t say. I bless You for your Word that comforts me, and I thank you for timing that letter to arrive just when I needed a reminder that You care. You seemed far away in my distress but in reality, You showed up in each of those encounters. You truly are my on-time God.
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