And I Have Loved You

But now, thus says the LORD, who created you, O Jacob, and He who formed you, O Israel: "Fear not, for I have redeemed you. I have called you by your name; you are Mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned, nor shall the flame scorch you. For I am the LORD your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior; I gave Egypt for your ransom, Ethiopia and Seba in your place, since you were precious in my sight, you have been honored, and I have loved you. Therefore I will give men for you, and people for your life.

Isaiah 43:1-4

Breathing is such a deep and humble embrace of pain. I lean in to it, grasping the hands of Sorrow and Suffering until I think that I must die--surely, I must die. But I have learned that though we are fragile creatures, we are resilient, and so I wake up and feel the aching morning in all of its wonder and misfortune.

My life is beautiful. The thought surged in like a glass of cool water on a hot summer day. I cling to it, even now, when the effects have faded, and the words seem dull and lifeless, an overly fingered bit of stitching. Beauty is such a mess to deal with, I think. It is part of my calling, to make and find beauty, to trace its curves and rephrase it, translating it for others to behold as well. I need it like I need water, but all I have right now is a heart laced with scars that still bleed when I strain them. 

Jesus has a tendency to strip things away. Layer by layer, piece by piece, until there is nothing left at all, and I stand, shivering and ashamed, before the Lord my God who asks me why I hid. I hid because I was afraid. I was afraid of this person that I am, and how small I am compared to You. I hid because I was afraid that You would take more from me, that I would feel a deeper pain that I would not be able to bear. I hid because he told me I was naked. 

Are these sufferings truly temporal? I long to dip my hand into the spring of eternal life, to drink deeply of the place where there is no more pain, where there are no more tears, because this has lasted so long and I am so tired of the sort of brokenness that hinders me from being the person that I am somewhere inside. I know that I am still here, somewhere in the midst of pain and resilience, beauty and suffering, stripping away and building up again. There I am, and He says that He has loved me. He has seized me by the heart--how can I give you up? How can I hand you over? My heart churns within me... 

What if I stepped back from everything--from the pain of disease-ridden bones, from the depth of sorrow that comes with heartbreak, from the confusion and the chaos in my head--what if I stepped back and let His saliva cover my eyes until I see, really see that He is good? What if I saw that I am drenched in blood, but it is not mine, it is His, and it has washed me white as snow? 

I think, then, that I would see that my life is beautiful. 

And so I pass through the waters, and through the rivers--they do not overflow me. I walk through the fire, and I am not burned, nor scorched. 

I am His.