I know you’re weary. I feel it, too.
I feel it deep in my bones before my feet hit the floor in the still-dark hours of the early morning. I feel it… weariness.
I’m so tired of a broken world full of darkness unspeakable. Tired of shoulders hunched from the heavy load of caring for family. My cheeks are red from the frustration of mothering a child with special needs and a teen struggling to make her own way in the world.
Both are looking to me, asking, “Will it be all right?” …. expecting me to tell them that all is well. Expecting me to make all things right.
I am weary of pretending that I have everything under control when the truth is that I am not sure.
I am not sure if it will be all right.
Should I tell them that it’s all going to be fine, this glorious journey of ours, and that we’ll make it to the finish line without any broken bones… when, of this, I myself am not really sure.
I think of the images of Christian children in the Middle East giving their lives for their Jesus-testimony, and I know that my tears and nothing compared to theirs, and yet, I am so very tired, and so weary.
I am only an aging mother, someone who cannot move mountains. Someone who cannot heal old wounds or new wounds, or any wound at all, for that matter. One who cannot be the sole bridge over such a wide river of tears.
I am only one quaking, quiet voice… so quiet now that I fear no one can hear me.
And so lift my hands to the sky in desperation, my lips finally forming one word, the only one that I trust. The voice that carries it — mine— is barely a whisper, yet when that word leaves my lips, something shifts almost violently inside of me.
As the word rolls past my lips, I sense the soul-storm clouds being pushed aside and new strength pours into my body. A beam of Heavenly light parts the gray to warm my uplifted, worn hands. The hands of a frail mother with a most unbearable load.
And the word is actually a name. One name.
That name — Jesus — delivers me. I feel His arms wrap around my shaken soul and I find my voice again.
All the power of Heaven and Earth can be found in that One Name. No power nor principality of darkness, no sorrow so deep, can keep me from His love for me. He is the Lifter of My Head.
My broken motherhood, my broken life, and even my fragile family — blessedly beautiful but uniquely broken, too — all take shape again, strangely stronger despite so many scars, our testimonies. In His name, all of our brokenness gives way to healing.
My face still damp from tears, I fix my spiritual eyes on my Savior. In Him— Jesus— I have an answer.
Jesus makes all things right.
I find the strength to go on.
Later, when my child comes to me with that same question — will it be okay? — I say with confidence, without a quake in my voice:
Yes, my Love, Yes. Jesus makes it all right.
Our Deliverer… is coming. Believe it.
Do you know Him? He is there—with you—at this very moment. Lean on Him, weary mother. Trust Him, struggling father.
He makes all things eternally right.
“Stop weeping; behold, the Lion that is from the tribe of Judah,
the Root of David, has overcome!”
Do you know Him?
If the answer is, “no,” He’s waiting for you. Here’s how to know Jesus:
“That if you confess with your mouth, “Jesus is Lord,” and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. For it is with your heart that you believe and are justified, and it is with your mouth that you confess and are saved.”
If you would like prayer or simply to know more, comment below and I’ll be in touch. Or, if you know someone that has is struggling with a heavy load, would you mind sharing this post with them? Thank you!
Music for the Journey by Hillsong United:
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