Behold, I will do a new thing; now shall it spring forth; shall ye not know it? I will even make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert.
Isaiah 43:19 (ERV)
(Side note…I have written from Isaiah 43:19 three times before. Clearly there is much in it for me to learn. The Word changes not…we change, drawing nigh.)
On 6.22.11, I want to arrive at that place where the transitions move around me, but do not knock me down. I want to walk in the wilderness knowing my way is made. Whether I walk like it or not, my way is made, but I want to be more with the program.
On 6.23.11, If you are calm, the dog will be calm, and you will complete your assignment (or your workout).
And on 11.21.11, when I chopped off 40’ of dreads (it’s okay, they’re growing back), So, lighter, sassier, more encouraged by and less afraid of the open road, I’m doin’ new. Lord, I thank You that You gave me no spirit of fear, so as long as my hand is in Yours. I might slip, but I’ll never fall. Shoot, I might even sashay.
Walking the dog this morning, it occurred to me. At 9:00 am, I’d be back in the very same location I was when a routine medical appointment turned into an emergency referral to a specialist which became an emergency hospital admission which evolved into a one week hospital stay. Our lives, the life of my family, changed in an instant.
So, I wondered what it would be like to be here again. I am here again, but we are in a different place. The act of being thrown off an emotional cliff might have been one of the most profound spiritual experiences of my life. It was violent. It was sudden. It was irreversible. I am thankful.
I am thankful (and no, I have not lost my mind). When all of this is behind us (and we are believing God for complete restoration and healing and soon), we will remain changed. I am different. Broken. Grateful. Grateful for the lessons that, though at the time we thought might overtake us, consuming us like fire, merely burnished and made us stronger. Not strong on our own. His strength made perfect in our weakness.
Since Isaiah’s words of comfort through trials resonates so deeply with me, I needed more context. So, of course I went to Matthew Henry’s commentary.
To so low an ebb were the faith and hope of God’s people in Babylon brought that there needed line upon line to assure them that they should be released out of their captivity; and therefore, that they might have strong consolation, the assurances of it are often repeated, and here very expressly and encouragingly…God here takes to Himself such titles of His Honour as were very encouraging to them. He is the Lord their Redeemer, not only He will redeem them, but will take it upon Him as His office and make it His business to do so. If He be their God, He will be all that to them which they need, and therefore, when they are in bondage, He will be their Redeemer.
Thank You, Father God for returning me to this Word. I am understanding the message. Much like the children of Israel, I am weary in my humanness of the trials associated with my beloved’s health, but our growth comes in enduring the trial, not avoiding it. This season is an opportunity to testify to the goodness of God, Your steadfastness, our dependence upon You (in our acknowledged brokenness), and a time to draw closer. To draw nigh.
Thank You Lord, for my brokenness, as it reminds me that I am Nothing Without Your Love. I never was, but the fall from my failing capacity to Your Amazing Grace is a journey for which I’d trade nothing. Sin ti soya nada…Necesito tu amor, Senor. (These are the lyrics from Nothing without Your Love by Richard Smallwood, one of my favorites, which I am currently savoring in praise. You should join me.)