Dare I trust my resurrected heart? The flickering candle of hope? The dimly lit path to freedom? The trickling water of peace?
Dare I trust the softer voices in my head? The gentle breezes in my soul? Dare I trust the raging monster is dead? That it will never rise again?
My heart was crushed by the hammer of injustice. Broken by ghosts of the past. Paying for crimes she did not commit. Drowning in tears that were never hers to cry.
It trusted the bloody hands of those who claimed to love her. The freezing tomb of silence. The glaring eyes of rejection. The coals of shame poured on her head.
But dare she trust these quiet chambers? To lay down her sword? To tear down the walls? Dare she believe in trust again?
No! I dare not trust my fickle heart. My fractured mind. My wild emotions. My murdered soul.
I dare not trust my destructive self. My racing thoughts. My doubts and fears. I dare not trust my broken self at all.
I dare to trust an unseen God. I dare to trust His tender love. I dare to trust His healing touch. I dare to trust His whispering voice.
I dare to trust His wounded hands. I dare embrace the blood He shed. I dare believe the words He speaks. I dare surrender to the cross.
Father, forgive my wounded heart. My angry tears. My shattered soul. I never wanted to hurt you. But I was afraid to trust your stubborn love. But I’m not afraid anymore.
Trust in the Lord forever, for the Lord, himself, is the Rock eternal (Isaiah 26:4).
“I don’t like going off and leaving you all alone. Are you sure you’ll be okay?”
“Of course, I’ll be okay. I want you to go and spend time with your old Navy buddies. It’ll be good for you. Go and have fun.”
He’s only been gone four hours, and already I feel trapped in an eerie tomb of silence. No TV, no crazy, made-up songs bouncing off the walls, no shouting, “Honey! I love you!” Nothing but the deafening sound of silence.
He’s taken little trips before without me, but this time it feels different. Maybe because I’m older, now, and realize that one day, I may face life without him. And that scares me. I think about that a lot these days. How do you learn to live without your best friend and marriage partner of 53 years? How do you adjust to living alone?
Like shifting sand, life is always changing. Nothing ever stays the same. One day, you wake up young and vibrant, the next day, you can barely drag your old bones out of bed. You don’t see it coming. You don’t even notice the slight changes. It’s like bam! And you find yourself waist-deep in the murky water of old age.
Old age changes your way of thinking. It rips the mask of denial off your face, and the ugly truth appears, like a dark, lifeless shadow dictating the final chapter of your life. Old age. The Phantom of the Opera. That younger, vibrant self, smothered in the cloak of decay.
How do we tell ourselves to stay calm when we visit nursing homes, when we see the struggles, the fear, and the sadness in people’s eyes? How can we feel safe in the hands of a broken health care system? How much money is enough to get the proper care we worked so hard and saved for?
I don’t know because I’m not there yet. But as a believer in Jesus Christ, I know that through the promises in His Word, He will take care of me, that He will walk with me through the shadow of death, and into eternal life with Him. No more sorrow. No more tears. No more old age. No more death.
Old age and I are not friends. It’s an intruder. I’m a fighter. But fighting against old age is fighting against God. Through disobedience, Adam and Eve sinned, and the world was given the death sentence. Who am I to change God’s mind? Who am I to stand before Him with clenched fists, expecting Him to change the rules? To make an exception. To remove the sting of old age.
We all face many challenges throughout our lives, and we either learn to deal with them or we learn to run from them. To stick our heads in the sand and hope they go away. Old age is a challenge that you can’t run from or bury in the sand. If we’re fortunate enough to live a long life, we must be brave enough to accept it as God’s gift to us and trust Him to walk with us through it.
I thank God for my life, for all the challenges, and for being there with me every step of the way. He created me, and He is able and willing to take care of me for the rest of my life.
The world is a scary place with all its vices and distractions. Today, more than ever, we need someone we can trust and rely on. Someone who has our best interests at heart. And God is the One. He proved it in a lowly manger, He shouted it from the cross, from the tomb, and at His glorious resurrection! I love you! I will take care of you! Trust me!
Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light (Matthew 11:28).
Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous hand (Isaiah 41:10).
I am your God. Not your worries. Not your fear. Not your fickle emotions. Not your relationships. Not your home. I am your God. I will take care of you. I will fight for you. I will give you everything you need. I will give you complete rest.
How long has it been since you’ve been able to rest without the burdens of the world screaming in your ears? How long has it been since you’ve felt at ease living in your own skin? How long has it been since you felt that someone genuinely cared?
Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you (1 Peter 5:7).
As a chronic worrier, I bow down to fear and kiss its feet. Fear is the boss of me. I trust it to always be there, and it never lets me down. Crazy, I know. But that’s what I do because that’s what I learned to do. Fear it, then worry yourself to death about it, and maybe it will disappear. If it doesn’t, worry some more.
Last Sunday, my grandson delivered a powerful message on the topic of idolatry. And like a guided missile, the Holy Spirit took aim and pierced my heart to the core. That’s it! Fear, and all those other destructive cousins, aunts and uncles are sitting on the throne and controlling my life! They crawled through the window when I wasn’t looking and are working diligently behind the scenes.
Worries. Emotional torment. Failed relationships, misunderstandings, and irrational thinking; all those little gods now standing in my mind as tall as trees. I crowned them all, trusting them more than I trusted God. All my tears, all my begging and pleading God’s deliverance while clinging to the filthy rags of idolatry.
In the parlor of my mind, I see a big, brown, heavy door. Behind that door is a lifetime of pain and misery that I’ve been clinging to like an old, tattered security blanket. That door is closed behind me, now; God has sealed it shut. And standing there, feeling fresh and clean, like a newborn baby, my life suddenly has meaning and purpose. As if I just woke up from a long, deep sleep and seeing the splendor of the universe for the first time.
What about you? Are you ready to tear down the altars of those little gods tormenting your life? Are you ready to stop trusting your worries and fears and start trusting God? Are you ready to fall into his arms, kick off your shoes, and rest completely in his love? His power? His protection?
The Lord is my Shepherd, I lack nothing. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he refreshes my soul. He guides me along the right paths for his name’s sake. Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil, my cup overflows. Surely your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever (Psalm 23).
Straight From the Heart 