(In this Lenten series, Letters From The Village, I am speaking out from the heart with my strugling voice, through a fading art form. Letter writing. Because? Why? There is a lovely intimacy between reader and writer which rests in the lines of a letter. Break the seal, open the thin glue lined envelope, pull the paper from its home in the nestled space and read.)
Dear Sad You,
Hold on tight to the Lover of Your Soul in these dark times. When much seems bleak and the world is cloaked in hurt and you wear a heavy coat of confusion, cling and grasp your God. His very hand.
And if these times were not ,would you hold on tight like the barnacles on boat bottom, hull hold fast? Do you embrace hard, white-nuckle in need and cling as the Confederate Jasmine to the lamppost when all is calm?
This place of self-sufficient stillness leaves you untethered in pride and independence, one step away or farther from your Christ.
If not for the whirling times, the turbulent stirrings in your world would you rest assured, rest alone, one step away from the Comforter.
Dear sad one, it is hard, so hard to see in this fog of war, a war in your very world. But throw your life-line to the One who calms the seas and guards your boat and loves you with unfailing love. And know that Joy comes in the morning.
Grab hold in love. Squeeze tight the line. And put on the lens of faith. That on the other side is recovery from the squalls and lessons learned in rocky times. And the same God, unchanging, always loving, remains before the storm, through the storm, and on the other side.
Look through the lens of faith and trust. Look through the lens of faith and know.
Look ahead assuredly with a knowing. Joy comes in the morning. Read the unchartered places as chartered. Steer ahead in confidence and faith. Waver not. Worry not.
And begin to set the table of celebration during the pitch and toss of your vessel. Because when the waters calm and the swells die out, you will throw a party in your soul and celebrate what you now know anew. You will glean the glory from the storm. And what is evident in the light will bring you closer to the Protector.
Sad one, celebration longs to throw her confetti high and colorful in the air. Where the winds of change can carry it away in joyous currents of rightful praise.
It will sail away on the winds of sweet release.
And Joy will come and the Light will be radiant, blinding even. On the other side of the storm. The blinding blue sky hovers over the horizon of doubt and gloom.
Welcome Joy as she waits to reclaim her rightful place.
And rest in and on the safe place. Hover under the Protector’s coverage, safe and dry. Warm and loved.
Then tell. Speak of Him who brought you through.
Dear broken heart put on the lens of faith and wipe the fog from your shattered view. Restoration of the broken and recovery from the wreckage wait in love, right round the next turn.
Joy is sweeter, so much sweeter after the winds have whipped your ship and tangled your heart in the messy. After your time up on the rocky hard places, sip from the cup of Joy.
And the mystery of this is just that. The Joy tastes sweeter after the choppy trip through rough times.
Then rest. Know He is good, your God. And thank. Savor and see. That He is good. So good, sweet one.
Your Joy has come in the morning. Sing a song of praise.
joining Emily, Ann, and Jennifer
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elizabeth w. marshall 