Kept

Sometimes I feel like a child, and not a man.

‘But you are a child,’ You say back, ‘and I never want you to see yourself as anything other.

You’re My child.’

I need not think of myself as less of a man for needing You all the time, God, for constantly leaning on Your provision and help.

It does not make me less of a man, but more of one in Your eyes, the only eyes that matter.

‘I reveal these things to children,’ You say back to me, ‘And I conceal them from those who are wise and learned in their own eyes or the eyes of this world; and I utterly hide Myself from the proud. You are right to say My eyes are the only eyes that matter.’

And then You ask me, ‘Child, where is your treasure?’

Your Word says it is where my heart is, I reply.

You probe me further, ‘And where is that?’

Oh, Lord, You know all things. You know I love You.

‘Feed My sheep,’ You say.

I have without knowing it, I reply, at least not in the moment.

‘That is My mercy,’ You whisper. ‘So that you won’t boast in what I am doing through you.’

It’s not I, but You in me, this I have come to know.

‘I have weakened you so you will know that it’s I who give the victory.

That it’s I who lead you in a procession of triumph.

That it’s I who have handed the enemies over to you.’

In that case, oh Lord, thank You for making me weak so Your strength may rest upon me.

Thank You for a wrestle that leads to a hug and gives me a permanent limp.

A limp, a brokenness that now desperately needs You for life!

Thank You for thorns that give me a clearer, more beautiful vertical relationship with You, that I wouldn’t have without them, no matter how hard they may hurt at times.

‘There is your treasure, child,’ You speak over me. ‘Am I not worth laying everything down for?’

Yes, I exclaim.

I have tasted Your goodness, I have drank from Your living water.

It’s an endless well that flows from the firm cornerstone; the unmovable, unchangeable, solid rock.

You are the foundation of omnipotence brought low, to carry and hold the weight of my sin, my pride, my self-pity, my wretched, stubborn heart; my contaminated mind.

‘Beware the thief,’ You warn me. ‘He wants to steal what I’ve given you by elevating My blessing above Me.

The thief wants to corrupt My pure intentions to bless you in a loving partnership, a strand of three-chords he seeks to separate.

As a whole, the blessing I have given is to be a servant and not a master.’

But Lord, I cry, Insecurities, frustrations, doubts, and conflicts have crept into the blessing and mastered me!

Then comes Your reversal, ‘They are the very things given in Me to serve you.

I want to work grace into your emotions, unconditional love into your heart, and the work of My cross into your life.

All of this to work the Word of life who is My Son, into your mind,

to bring health in your being,

to establish My plans as your purpose;

that was the meaning of My blessing.

That is My purpose in marriage.’

Lord, I have held on to my rights, I shriek with regret.

Your blessing has become a master because I have refused to be crucified!

My self-pity, my pride, it refuses to lay down.

‘It must,’ You said. ‘And I AM faithful. I will do in you what you can’t.’

Me, a personal cross, and a personal relationship with the power of My Spirit can override the natural way you have handled My blessing,’ You reveal.

‘On its own, My blessing will end up in its own consequences, and the thief will try to take it from My true and original purpose, to serve you and for you to serve.’

My heart aches with anguish.

Don’t let the thief steal from Your purpose, oh Lord.

Restore the blessing to its rightful place, that it may not be stolen but kept, sealed, delivered from the thief’s grip and into Your nail-scarred hands!

‘Then serve,’ You say. ‘Love,’ You repeat. ‘Let go and trust Me,’ You reiterate.

‘Disregard,’ says the thief. ‘Stay bitter,’ he repeats. ‘Hold tight and trust your feelings,’ he reiterates.

‘Child, whose voice will you listen to?’ You ask.

‘Keep a clean heart before Me and let Me teach you forgiveness. 

Release those who hurt you and don’t keep them in bondage.’

Lord, You are the treasure.

May the greatness of Your presence subdue me that I receive Your power to love and forgive and call out the thief!

‘I bind up and tie down the thief,’ You say with gentle assurance.

‘I will wrestle him away victoriously and take back from him what he seeks to steal.

Not one of My children will be stolen. Not one of Mine will be snatched away.’

Retake and remake the blessing in Your image, Lord, that it would be for Your glory.

And at last, I stop fighting this war against the thief that I could never win.

On my knees, in my weakness, I have assumed the position of might, strength, and power.

I surrender to You, Lord, Who has already claimed the victory.

‘The battle is won, and it is finished,’ You say. ‘Trust me and rest in Me.

It’s your concession and submission to Me that makes you a man.

But may you never forget that first and more so, you are My child.’