Life is hard. There is no getting around it. Why, then, do I sometimes forget to run to the one who loves me with the force of the entire universe he spoke into creation?
You’d think I would have learned this already:
When in want, let him in.
When desperate for reassurance, let him in.
When distracted by possessions and yearning for more stuff that doesn’t matter, let him in.
When injured by those who should know better, let him in.
When ready to take the stance of “victim,” let him in.
When exhausted and on the edge of ugliness, or already crossed firmly into Uglyland, let him in.
When my own thoughts disgust me, let him in.
A better writer than myself said when we run to Jesus and snug up under his wings, then he can shelter us from all of the junk of life. The junk may not go away, but we’re with someone infinitely more capable of handling it. Put another way, if I am crossing a busy road and my daughter plays outside of my grasp, I can’t protect her from rushing cars. But with my hand firmly clasped with hers, I can guide her through the dangerous traffic.
“Because you are my help, I sing in the shadow of your wings.” Psalm 63:7. I love this Psalm. It has rich imagery and reminds me that in the shadow of God’s wings (close, so close!) “my soul clings” to God and his “right hand upholds me.” In order to get that closeness, I have to walk to God. It takes action. Is God always there? Of course. But I don’t want a standoffish figurehead for a God. I don’t desire to set the Lord on a shelf and pull him out once and a while.
I want a real, living relationship with my Savior. And that takes work.
The Word is living and active (Heb. 4:12). It’s supernatural and it will take hold of you. But we must put in the time. We must sit with Bible open on our laps, a pen and paper ready, verses read and unfolded in the stillness of night, a child’s naptime or the wee, still hours before daybreak. Otherwise, running to the shelter of his wings won’t be the first thing we will do. When life comes, we will thrash, we will cry out, we will bleat out raspy cries and sink under the weight of our weakness.
There is a better way, and today, I am clinging to it. How my soul clings. Dear Jesus, let me come to you first. You above all else. Join me, won’t you?
It’s an open-ended invitation to snug up under his wings. There’s room for you, too.
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