From the Anika archives: March 2008
Sometimes desperately
frustrated by how far away God felt...longing and yearning for a connection to
my Savior...I would close my eyes and simply beg God to show up. At times there was silence and I would feel
no answer at all. Occasionally there
would the remnant of a verse I’d almost forgotten or the briefest whisper of
affirmation...the quiet knowledge that God was not as far away as I may have
thought. And every so often my pleas
were answered with the vividness of reality playing out before my eyes and in
my heart, with the reassurance God has been waiting for me to beg Him to show
up...
I am looking. Searching.
Like a game of hide-and-seek where I am the seeker. The sun is bright and the day beautiful. I move deliberately, slowly, almost as if I
am walking on tiptoes – trying not to make any noise as I look one way, and
then the other…behind that tree, in that thicket of flowers. I bite my bottom lip with a mischievous grin. The look on my face screams: “You’re not
hiding from me, You’re hiding for me.
You are giving me a reason to seek; I just have to keep looking. This is just a game…”
But time passes and the sun is not quite so high in the
sky. The flowers are tall on both sides
of me and I do not have a good view of the path or expanse of land in either
direction. This no longer feels like a
game; this is no longer enjoyable. My breathing quickens; the smile drops from
my face. “Where are You? Why are You hiding for me anyway?”
Silence. I nearly
scream into the air but there is no answer.
I begin to walk away. My pace
accelerates and my seeking becomes more of a frantic search. The branches snap underneath of feet as I
walk quickly down the path. With a
quivering voice I shout again. “I can’t
find You!” My words reverberate off the
trees but again there is no answer. The
wind blows and I shiver. I am cold...alone...desperate.
And so I start running.
The path is narrow, almost non-existent, and the brush catches me from
all sides. My arms and legs are becoming
scratched and bruised. I continue to
run. A fallen tree limb snags the flesh
on my leg. A branch above slams into my
forehead. While I am conscious of the
pain – the blood trickling down my leg, the sudden pounding in my head - I do
not have time to stop and see what caused and is causing my pain. I no longer care. All I know is that it hurts. And so I keep running. Pushing the flowers and branches out of my
way, I am dying... dying to know where You are.
Breathing heavily, I feel myself begin to give up hope. It is too hard to continue to run; there is
no use continuing to try… And my run
becomes a jog and my jog becomes a weary pant.
I am just barely moving and I cannot go on anymore. As I slow the back of my hand reaches to
brush my tousled hair out of my face. My
cheek is wet and I realize I am crying.
My walk slows further, so slow I am just barely moving, and I fall. My attempts to move are that of a crawl and I
am no longer crying, I am sobbing. I can
go no further. And so, I stop all
together. I have nothing left to give,
nothing to go on.
I sit on the cold ground and am vaguely aware that is all
but dusk as my face falls onto my scarred arms.
I bawl. Salty tears fall into the
fresh cuts on my hands and I wince as my arm brazes the raw bump on my
head. “Where are You?” I whimper.
“You promised if I were to go looking, I would find You. What happened? Are you really hiding from me? I can’t see you if You’re not here…” And my body convulses as I collapse.
And then, just then, You’re there. Gently, tenderly, You pick me up and place my
head on Your shoulder even as I am still sobbing. You rub my back softly and whisper in my ear: “Ssshhh... It’s alright. Just rest.
I’ve got you. That’s right. Lay
your head on my shoulder and rest…”
My convulsing stops and just a few sobs cause me to shake as
my breathing slows. I lift my head and
look into your eyes, “I couldn’t find You…and now I’m dirty and scratched and…”
I choke back more tears and am ready to again hide my eyes in Your shoulder
when I see them. There, in the corner of
Your eyes, are tears of Your own.
And with Your free hand, You take Your thumb and wipe the
tear out of the corner of Your eye. Your
thumb, still wet from Your tear, moves from Your eyes to mine as You use it to
wipe the streams from my tear-stained cheeks.
And then I know. While I was
looking for You, You had been waiting, looking for me too. Your hands rub over my gashes, wounds, bumps,
and scars and heal my hurts. The warmness of Your touch overwhelms me. I would be scarred again and again to be held
as I am now being held. Because in Your
arms, in Your eyes, I am perfect, I am Yours, I am found.
And You kiss my forehead as it nestles into Your neck. With feeling and emotion in Your voice you
again whisper into my ear: “Relax my
daughter. You are safe. You have fought and you have found. I have you and I will not let you go. Just rest…”
Psalm 13...
