At The Feet of The Master

As I write these words, my husband screams in his sleep. I think he changed position – and pain wracks his body. The pain is cruel and relentless. He is held captive by a mysterious disease that defies treatment and demands more and more of our dwindling resources. 

The things that normal people see in their future – retirement, traveling, puttering in the garden, playing with grandchildren, are now just shadows. Dreams that dissipate like morning mist when you awaken.  I don’t know what our future holds. I only know that Jesus, my Messiah, is the author of our story and His Word promises that He has good things for those who trust in Him.

Jeremiah 29:11

For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

LORD, I lay it all before you. My needy, messy, self-absorbed basket of worries and troubles. I lay it all at Your feet. 

And I am overcome by… You. Your Presence.

I’m overwhelmed at the thought that I can stand in Your Presence. Yet, You are so holy, so beautiful that I cannot stand. I bow before You. 

And I gaze upon Your glorious feet. Burning with fierce power and creation-ruling authority. 

Yet You exude such tenderness. I am deeply aware a bruised reed is safe in Your hands. 

You, Messiah, take my tattered basket. The one overflowing with worry and fear.  

You pull out a crumbled butterfly wing. All that remains of the once-upon-a-time dream of what my life would be. Gently shaking the dusty powder into Your hands, You whisper the merest breath of hope and promise. 

Suddenly, an entire flock of whirling, light-infused, iridescent beauty is released from Your hands. 

You have the strength to crush kingdoms and the authority to level the earth. But You choose tenderness with me. Infinite kindness. 

And I find laughter in Your presence. Full blown, head back, shake-the-earth laughter. Light-heartedness. You have a twinkle in your eye that tells me You have wonderful surprises for me. I am safe in Your presence. Fully accepted. Greatly loved. 

You stoop down to make me whole. Free. Able to breath. 

I breathe in Your kindness. I breathe in Your compassion. I breathe in Your unwavering goodness. 

I see the scars on Your wrists, on Your ankles. Where You accepted Abba’s plan. 

You endured agony for a moment of time so that I could be here now. And, with You for all time. 

I lay myself beside my basket, Messiah. I have nothing to give back that is worthy of You. All I have, You have given me. 

Breath. Sight. Life. 

All I have is Yours. 

I touch the scarred flesh between Your foot and Your leg. Where spikes separated sinew and bone and the weight of the world rested upon You. 

Those are the feet that walk with me. 

When I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, these are the feet that keep in step with mine. Your footsteps are sure and firm. For You have walked this path before. You know the way. 

I trust You to guide me safely through the darkness. 

I trust You to lead me into a spacious place. Where sunlight once again warms our faces, and birds will again sing the morning awake. A place where the breeze will be fragrant with honeysuckle and jasmine, and water will gurgle joyously against the smoothed stones of rest. 

Today, I will trust You to hold my hand as I step blindly into the future. 

The path seems uneven. Treacherous. The walls of this space are cold, closing in upon me. 

But You hold tight to my hand. 

Your voice is calm. Gentle. Reassuring. “This way. Just a bit farther. Keep Your eyes on Me. You’re almost through.” 

And the light that guides my steps radiates from Your scars. Those scars that held the weight of the world. The scars that remind me that You sacrificed Your glory so that I could be here with You.

I trust You. You will guide me safely through. 

Here I am. And here I long to stay. At the feet of The Master. 

Psalm 23:4 

Even though I walk
    through the darkest valley,
I will fear no evil,
    for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
    they comfort me.