We came to the sea, and tears blurred vision, word-echoes muffled wave-sound on sand as more of me fell away. As if the wind moving the surf could sweep me into the water for washing.
Had I done enough, surrendered enough, opened myself enough to Him?
Wrapping arms around myself, I tried to breathe.
I felt utterly alone.
Had God abandoned me? Was He holding Him back from me because I had failed Him?
The waves came into focus, rolling insistently, repeatedly, endlessly along the shore.
The question repeated itself too, overwhelming me. “Have you ever…?”
No. I hadn’t.
“You must…”
The demand tore at me; I was in the sea now, water-crushed and winter-cold and so lonely, afraid even to beg help.
Didn’t He know; I couldn’t swim? Didn’t He remember; I hadn’t learned yet! Didn’t He see; I was drowning…
“And this is eternal life, that they may know You, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom You have sent.” (John 17:3)
I had just wanted to know Him. “Your face, O Lord, I will seek…” I had chosen this even over “right and wrong,” that distraction that constantly turned gaze inward, away from that face.
But even this, not enough? The lines were too blurred. I couldn’t reach Him. There was nothing left for me. I choked on water and wind and expectation.
Nothing left. There was no salvation here.
Except there was a Savior. There had to be a Savior. Messiah.
“Therefore the Lord Himself will give you a sign: Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a Son, and shall call His name Immanuel.” (Isaiah 7:14)
Immanuel. I remembered now.
God with us, wrapped in my dust, washing my feet, searing my soul with God-love that death itself could not quench.
I was not alone.
There He was, Jesus standing there with me, and I the little girl running across wet sand, could give nothing but my tears, for it was all too much for me.
And He wiped my face with His fingertips, with hands that still bear His earth-wounds, and raised my eyes to His Father’s face, so stern, so tender.
There was no demand. There was nothing to satiate His holiness that His Son hadn’t done in my place.
“But grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ…” (2 Peter 3:18)
What grace, this? To know my desperate need, to sustain my empty with Christ-fullness, to create this space for my spirit to learn of eternal God-outside-of-time?
All this, and I was not abandoned. Not left to do and work and fulfill without Jesus filling me, changing me, sanctifying me. God with me, the Spirit-seal of His redemption, complete in Christ.
And I the child on this water-washed shore, discovering reflections of His glory.
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And here come the tears.
This was breathtaking Kelly.
“To know my desperate need, to sustain my empty with Christ-fullness, to create this space for my spirit….” Ditto! Desperate is a good word for not so good a place to be in the flesh when it’s reached. But it only speaks of our soul’s needing HIM desperately. Sometimes it takes both soul and flesh to get desperate before we’re able to fully turn our lives completely over. Christ-fullness floods in when we do. Thanks Kelly!
Didn’t He know…didn’t He see…didn’t He remember… So you do this too, friend Kelly? Let His wisdom, His grace, His mercy stop just outside your door from time to time? Sometimes I don’t know, I don’t see, I don’t remember how He’s already crossed that threshold. But He is so good to remind, even through wise and gracious words as yours here. Thank you for this. Really.
Simply beautiful. The weaving of the images, your heart, and His words–a perfect balance. Just like when He holds us in His gentle hands.
Blessings.
“There was no demand. There was nothing to satiate His holiness that His Son hadn’t done in my place.”
Thank you for a reminder I so desperately need today. I fear that I will never stack up– and then He reminds me that He already has.
“I had just wanted to know Him.” Thank you for those simply words. It reminded me of all the times I have tried on my own to “know Him” when in reality He just wanted me to “be”. I so often interfere with what He is trying to do. He is so faithful and enduring of me. Your words are beautiful.
“What grace, this?” Thank you, Kelly, for so beautifully reminding me that HIS GRACE is what “fills my empty with Christ-fullness” and nothing of my own doing.
Thank you for helping me start my day in this grace!
Truly.
Beautifuly written and heartfelt received.
Bless.
Thank you for painting a gorgeous picture of grace for us, Kelly…and giving us a glimpse into your beautiful heart too.
Yes, that grace that finds its way into every cell and fibre and nerve and bone and then makes itself at home.
Kelly, this was beautiful. I love your images and your words. Keep up the great work, friend!!!
As always, beautiful, Kelly – in words, in faith, and in images of the Beautiful in you and in all of us. You continue to open your heart and we continue to be blessed.
All I can do is sigh … with understanding, with contentment, with deep, deep yearning.
Absolutely beautifully written & illustrated photographically. I so relate. Thank you for sharing!
So He sustains us. The glory of God in us and with us. Amen.
AMEN! AMEN! AMEN!
yes, amen
Sighs…beautifully written and the photographs just fit. I can so relate…
yes ma’am. exactly this.
As always, Kelly…your writing shows me more fully who I am and who He is. I love hearing your voice in this space.
I just wanted to reply to you all here to thank you for the comments on my guest post. I am so glad to share and to encourage – oops – (in)courage you here. Am grateful God used my words for Himself in your hearts.