I've fallen. My knees and my hands are bloodied and my face is drenched in tears. I hurt so badly. I collapse, letting my face hit the ground. I don't want to stand up. I just want to lie here, in a puddle of my own tears, and wait for the misery to pass over me. It seems as if life has stopped. I can think of nothing other than the fact that I've fallen. I don't want to stand back up. I know that once I get up, I'll only fall again. I don't trust my own two feet to hold me up. I just want to lie here and sleep for the rest of eternity. I'm exhausted. Mentally, physically, spiritually... exhausted. I am exhausted. I am weak. I am afraid.
But then I feel something, a gentle tug in my face that moves my face slowly upwards. What I see knocks the breath out of me. Two hands-- hands that have worked purely in the name of love, hands that have gently caressed the faces of small children, hands that have ever so lovingly healed those who were sick-- two strong hands, nailed to a cross. Two feet-- two feet that have walked a thousand miles, that have traveled both near and far only to serve, those two feet which have walked across the stormy seas-- two feet, nailed to a cross.
My eyes are drawn up still more, and I immediately want to bring them down again. But I can't look away. The face-- a crown of thorns pressed deeply into His forehead, blood and sweat pouring down His cheeks, his face twisted in pain and sadness. But those eyes, those dark brown eyes that look so deeply into my own, as if they're looking straight into my innermost being. I want to turn my face away, but I can't. As He looks down into my face, I am overwhelmed with emotion.
As much as I want to just give up, looking up at Him on that cross, I know that I can't. His love never fails, it never gives up, never runs out on me. Life is hard, I feel so weak, and I just want to sit here and cry. But I'm filled with hope. Hope in that beautiful Man on the cross, that Man Who has done so much for me. I'm almost afraid to see where this path is leading me, but I know that I can get back up and continue on. It hurts and I am afraid, but once again, I am filled with the hope of His unfailing love.
My mother wrote this on here facebook today, it may well relate to you well, and hopefully help you out:
ReplyDelete"There is a woman at church who has always been very considerate of our special diet, and made a huge effort at my dad's funeral to have food on hand that we could actually eat. She told me today that her doctor finally diagnosed her as having Crohn's Disease, after many years of suffering. She had only been getting sicker on her failed low fat, dairy-free diet. She ate lots of soy, and I would
just cringe inwardly, bite my tongue, and just pray for her whenever diet talk came up. After all, she was respectful of OUR food choices. Well, guess what? She informed me today that she ditched her carbs and her soy and is now eating pastured animal products, even plenty of pastured butter. She said, "This is an anti-inflammatory diet the doctor put me on. He wants to avoid having to give me Humera. You would not BELIEVE the difference!" "
I've actually been diagnosed with something: gastroparesis. It means my stomach is partially paralyzed, making it hard for me to digest food. Thanks for the advice, though! :)
DeleteOk, good! Well, kinda good, good that you found out. I am aware of that, and that would explain the relapsing of your symptoms.
Delete