Jesus, I come; Jesus I come.Into Thy freedom, gladness and light,
Jesus, I come to Thee.
Out of my sickness into Thy health,
Out of my wanting and into Thy wealth,
Out of my sin and into Thyself,
Jesus, I come to Thee.
-William Sleeper
I drove into the light after such a day where I wept,
it seemed, at every turn;
half a tank of gas to be anointed with a balm of peace.
694 was never so sweet, except this moment.
His light, which shone in setting sun
echoed in the words he sang to me.
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A day of grief, heaviness
sorrows rose and trouble rolled
taking on another's burdens
(as my burdens were taken too)
and truly burdened,
weeping,
interceding,
without words
and with words, claiming Jesus' Peace
and Light
against the Evil Power.
I do not say this lightly,
but I see a miracle
in her rising.
I see a hopeless daughter, tossed by anxiety
weakened by darkness
burdened by sin.
I asked if I could pray.
"No, I think I have to get off the phone."
Okay, I'm praying for you. Text me in an hour.
In that stone cold sentence, I knew no power in myself to save.
I prayed.
I cried.
Then others joined, and prayed. (Which was beautiful in and of itself, Thank You Father).
And, an answer.
She said "I am feeling a bit better. Are you up to driving?"
YES. Yes. yes.
In an hour's time.
A weeping breakdown later,
after kneeling in a gravel parking lot,
as songs drifted from the stone arched window,
a broken soul crying for a broken soul
a merciful, gracious, unspeakable kind Creator
unleashing Power.
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A day where goodbyes pressed in,
sweet and bitter.
One expectant and departing; may you Call her there.
One dear family sent for the Name; Amen.
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A day where I saw a Lion and a Root,
a Fountain and a Well,
in a room of Saints who sang to tell
each other and themselves:
of this hope
of this Name
of this Living Breathing Life
Who Shines like the Sun
Who cuts like a Knife.
