Devotion 377 - Corners

I checked every corner of the house.  I looked through almost every shelf. In our quest to purge “things” I ran through a series of questions.  How much did it cost?  How much is it worth?   

Finally, did the value in sentiment overwhelm either the former or the latter? Would I miss the piece or the trinket? In missing, would I buy another or grieve its loss?

I remember walking in my oldest son’s room almost two years ago.  We had just moved him to college.  The hollow of that room was no match for the hollow in my heart.  He was only thirty minutes away by car but when he left and we packed most of his worldly possessions I knew he would never truly be home again.  The roots of his adult life were thirsting to grow, exactly as they should.  But something deep down inside me ached.  

I missed the simplicity of reading him a bedtime story and tucking him into bed at night.  I looked long and hard at his bed.  The frame had been broken for over a year.  I didn’t want to see something broken any more.  My heart was broken enough.

My husband was gone for the evening.  I found the tool chest and slowly I took the entire bed apart and dragged it to the curb. 

I thought I could leave my grief at the curb; it turned out I couldn’t.  That is the way it is with emotions, they stick not to the things or to people but to a heart that simply won’t heal until a divine hand touches it.

You see we get so sick and so tired of carrying something; we must finally drag it to the curb.  We think and ponder the entire way.  We are not sure handing something to God is really the freedom it’s promised.  A thousand questions flood.  Can I really trust Him with this burden, this worry, this grief I have come to nurse and to know?

Does God understand the thousands of details tied to it?

Does He see my vantage point and more does He understand how I want this to turn out?  If I let go, will He know?

The questions, they choke me and I close my eyes and I set it down at the curb.

Strange how my Father does not require a bargain.

I don’t have to be good or perfect.  I don’t have to guarantee that I will never be in this situation again.  I don’t even have to explain the mess to Him.  He seems to know.

He seems not to care about the cause or even my solution.  He simply seems to care that I stop caring and that I clear the corners of my mind.

You see in surrender, He asks only one thing - me.  He takes the heaviness and we can feel closer because the thing that I strained and cried and worried over is no longer between us.

I walk slowly from the curb.  I can sense freedom.  Thoughts that had been tyrannized by fear fill with faith.  And I wonder can it really be this easy?  Can He really be this good?  Can I really trust His care and custody of heartache, sorrow, and shame?

The freedom is a compelling answer. 

He doesn’t paint a picture of answers or sunshine or ease.  His stroke is one of comfort and His method is one of peace.

I can’t explain it.  I don’t understand it.  I can put no price on this transaction.  But I know this is the way I desperately want to live.  I want to live in freedom.   He has paid the price.

We live because He died.  What love dear one.

Gratitude in place of Grief,  only God.

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come. 

1 Corinthians 5:17