Encouragement
As I sobbed from the wounds that others had inflicted, my tired tears fell into the footsteps marking the hillside path. I lunged forward, but my strength gave way, and I fell harshly against the jagged rocks below. No one told me it would be this way.
As my cries filled the silence, I heard a gentle whisper. It came not from above me, not from ahead or behind; but came from closely by my side as I lay there hurting on the rough terrain. It was a familiar voice, one that had spoken over my life many times before. As he began to stand up and turn ever so slightly, I screamed, begging him not to leave me there. As he moved again, my sharp cries were muffled by his white garment. I realized he had scooped me up, and was now carrying me up the hill in his firm and reassuring grasp.
In a moment, all was quiet as he tenderly cradled me on the high hilltop. As I looked out, I saw a breathtaking sky of the purest blue, and I lost myself in its seemingly endless expanse for several moments. Shortly thereafter, my eyes met with his, a gaze so deeply filled with love that I had to look away. I heard him chuckle a little bit, as he reached for my weary face with his hands. They looked so rough, each one displaying a deep wound in the palm, and yet, they were gentlest touch I had ever known. He calmly touched my cheek, brushing away the tears of yesterdays gone by. He lifted my face towards his. He was crying now, and yet, his eyes sparkled with life and hope.
"My child,” he spoke, "Do you know how much I love you?"
A gentle smile broke through the tears for a moment. My crying had not seized, but now my incessant sobs came as a steady stream instead of violent, rushing waves. He squeezed me tight, and moved his hand now to my chest, placing it above my heart.
"I love y-" his breath caught for a moment, as I feared he wouldn't finish what he had to say.
He looked to that beautiful sky, then turned again to glance at me. He wore a tear-soaked smile that somehow, in that moment, branded my soul with an unshakeable peace.
"I love you so much," he continued, "that I have been searching for you much longer than you could ever comprehend. I even knew your name before you were brought into this world.”
He looked at me reassuringly, with a firm and commanding peculiarity about him, but not one that was heavy and oppressive, but freeing and light. He spoke with confidence,
“My precious child, it is I who wrote the story of history- every line, every page. Sometimes," he sighed and shook his head, "sometimes those I love have made the choice to rebel. They have followed a different way, and brought terrible things into this world that I never meant to be. The pages of history are filled with their atrocities, as well. It has been that way since Adam and Eve." His eyes now shifted downward to the left, as if, for a moment, he was recalling a distant memory he had never forgotten.
My wounded spirit lay still in his arms as he paused. Despite the fact that I could not stop the tears, I felt completely at rest within his soothing embrace.
He said, "Many have turned astray, and the tragedies they have orchestrated in their lifetimes here are found within the story I am writing. But, be assured my child, they do not determine it. In fact, I’ve already written the end!”
He let out a hearty, belly laugh so loud that I couldn't help but smile weakly as it boomed through the silent air.
"I can't wait for you to see it!" He exclaimed. He laughed once more, as his wide smile faded back to a tiny grin. He wiped the tears from my eyes with his gentle, rugged hands once more.
"Yes, those who have fallen are found within the pages I am writing. But I promise you, my child, that they will never determine it! I am the author of your story, and I am he who writes the redemption of mankind.”
He held his hands in front of my eyes. The scars were much deeper and grotesque than I first remembered. They seemed so horrific, and I knew that hate and evil had put them there. My gaze remained unbroken, fixated on the hand in front of me. He knelt closely to my ear, and gently spoke,
"This,” he said, “This is what determines the story."
Another cold tear dripped from his cheek.
We stayed for a long time on that hilltop, and he rocked me sweetly in his loving arms. As I unashamedly wept for what seemed like eternity, so did the man who held me so tenderly. At times, He even sobbed louder than I. As I remained resting, he hoisted me in his arms and began the dangerous journey back down the hill. My wounds were now nothing but a scar, yet they ached deeply with the injustices I had known. However, they were, in a very strange way, a proud badge of honor- a sign that evil had not won.
He smiled once more at me as he set my feet back on the treacherous terrain. I peered slightly over my shoulder, recognizing the last spot where He had found me. As I turned back, he was gone. I looked around everywhere, but I did not see him. However, he was more near to me then than he had ever been before. As I took a step, my first one in a very long time, his words flooded my heart. With great trembling, and a steadfast trust in the man whom I could not see, I took another step- and began to climb.
So you see friends, my story has not been determined by those who have been lead astray, whose transgressions are found within my pages. No, instead my life is unfolding in the hands of the man whose presence is with me every step. I have been made whole by the one who held me tightly, and I climb each path with his grace…
…for my story is being written by his scars, and not by my own.
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