Deeper Still

Deeper, deeper still.

My heart quavers at the yawning depth before me.

All I see is blackness, pitchy and thick,

And onward, into that dark, my path leads on.

Deeper, deeper still, my Jesus is calling me,

And sometimes it seems a cruel calling, for it is the calling to more pain,

More disappointment, devastation—

To embrace and grip ever tighter to the webs of pain that crawl through my bones—

Tighter still to the gaping wound that remains open in my heart,

For to love—

To love is to be in pain.

To love is to be left open and vulnerable,

Your pain on display for all the world to see and judge—

And tear still more.

Deeper, deeper still, says the Savior,

And the rugged cross tears the flesh on His shoulders to ribbons,

The crown of thorns sends beads of blood dripping into His eyes;

He stumbles, and as He hits the ground, His lips mutter,

Deeper, deeper still

Is My love for you.

Deeper still? Deeper than these rivers of blood pouring from your side, Jesus?

Deeper than the agony of separation that tore you from your Father’s arms, Jesus?

Deeper, deeper still.

My heart, still frail, quavers also at the sheer amount of love

That has become the yawning depth before me—

Deeper, deeper still—fall deeper still in love with Me, says the Christ,

Step out onto the path of love—My love, the love that was nails upon the cross,

Nails through my palms,

My love that will tear you apart—

And remake you anew.

Let me tear into you—

Deeper, deeper still, My love.

Gentle are my hands, but there is much work to be done yet,

And your healing will be your battle cry—

Guttural, from the very core of your agony,

But it is a cry of victory, not of defeat.

Be brave and take heart,

For though your body is wasting away,

Your soul is drinking from the wellspring of life,

Deeper, deeper still.