I wept as I drove the wet streets on my way home. I didn’t understand why. The tears seemed to have come out of nowhere. It was as if my soul had been ripped out of the womb of its love; of its space. It had felt safe in its rest and then, it was torn; torn from the place where it was and brought into the present.
The world here was wet, dripping in sorrow and the wind raged through it, ripping holes out as it flew on the wings of its dragon-like terror. Whistling its madness as it came. “What is happening to me? Why do I feel like love itself has been invaded, violated and uprooted? Why do I feel all of a sudden so desolate? How can I when He is so near?”
“Oh come to me my Beloved and teach me, why this tearing, why this present sorrow? From where did it come and will it go quickly? I am afraid to touch it, I want to rise up on the wings of joy and be away from this place of dripping sorrow.” My breath catches in my throat as dread takes hold of me.
My soul senses permeating unrest, I sort madly through my heart trying to determine from where this yawning chasm comes? “Oh God, my Savior, come quickly to me, I call for your sufficiency, let me find repose on the pillow of your peace; let me wrap myself snugly in the harbor of your comfort.”
The tears drip like blood, I swipe at them and crimson courses through my fingers, soaking the steering wheel, oncoming lights blind my already blinded eyes. Visually impaired, I drive on, crying out from my soul, from the very depths of me, “Not this sorrow! Oh please, my God and my King, come to me!”
Death hisses in my ear, while all around me, there is no noise, “fear is here, I will care for you”. And in a voice that is not a voice but a force which begins somewhere in the depths of a soul in turbulence I feel the piercing as a spirit screaming out from invisible depths, “NO! Fear will not come here! Perfect Love casts out all fear! Fear has no residence in this holy place! He rides on the wings of the wind!"
Raindrops splat on the windshield, tears dry in their paths, and on the horizon rests a hint of pink, a sun having already set, reflecting back its last hooray, as peace settles, and the rain falls.
Great is Thy faithfulness, O God my Father,
There is no shadow of turning with Thee;
Thou changest not, Thy compassions, they fail not;
As Thou has been Thou forever will be.
William M. Runyan, 1925
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