The kids were all playing outside on the playground, and a precious little three-year-old started crying nearby. Before I realized it, I found myself kneeling beside her. She seemed to want me to pick her up. I did, just as any mother would. She calmed down, and I helped her find her shoes. She then held my hand as she walked back to play. I went through the motions for another half hour or so, but as I drove home, I broke into a million pieces. Six months. It has been six months since I've held a sweet, warm, soft toddler in my arms. Six months since I've helped console those little tears or done something as 'mundane' as help a little one get shoes on. How is that possible? The unfairness of it all seemed to catch my heart in a vice grip. In that moment my arms ached so desperately to hold my little girl again. I sat down in the corner of my bathroom that night and listened to "Hold Me Jesus" (Big Daddy Weave) and just sobbed until I was physically sick. I needed the one who now holds her to hold me as well. I woke up the next morning arms still aching for her.
Ezekiel isn't a book I come back to a lot, but I'm here now. One recurring theme, chapter upon chapter, is "they will know that I am the Lord." There is both concern for God's people and the surrounding nations. So often it is in the judgement, the desolation the emptiness, the ruins, or the suffering Sovereign God is made known. He may often allow (sometimes cause) these things to bring a knowledge and awareness of who he is. (Don't misunderstand me, I am not saying he caused my daughter's death. Hang with me.)
Yet we see in Ezekial 35 it is in the shepherding, the rescuing, the pasturing, the tending, the rest, the binding up, the strengthening, and the blessing God's people will know that he is the Lord. In chapter 36 God's concern for his people and their restoration is noted (verse 8). God redeems their suffering. He looked upon them with favor. He is the God who keeps the promises of his covenant. But there also begins a plowing. It's for redemptive purposes, but not necessarily comfortable. But the plowing must come before the sowing. Then there is produce and growth; a settling and rebuilding- a prospering even- so they will KNOW. There's a reminder of their wayward hearts. Nothing they have done qualifies them for this redemptive process. It's not even being done with their comfort as priority. The gathering, the cleansing, the redeeming, the restoration are all for the sake of his Holy Name- not just among God's people, but for all surrounding nations.
Then we come to the "dry bones" of chapter 37. Their hope was gone, and Ezekiel was brought by the Lord to the "valley of death". The power of God brought these dry bones to life as he resurrected hope. "Breathe into these slain that they may live" (verse9); and that's my prayer as well.
I realize I'm selfish in my prayers for the redemption of our sorrow, resurrection of our hope, and the breath of life in our "valley of death" because in my humanity I want to escape this pain. (I was tempted to say "hell" instead of pain, but there's been no separation from my God in this, thus I cannot in good conscience say hell). Coincidingly I also want his holiness to be known here-in my valley. In order for all this pain to mean something and have eternal value it's got to be bigger than myself or even my daughter.
And here I am now just over six months since I've held my precious Abigail. It's been six months since I've heard her voice, felt her skin, brushed her hair, or smiled over her giggles. It's been six months since I've witnessed her tantrums or helped her with the myriads of daily things three-year-old little girls need assistance with-like getting her shoes on. Oh, how I'd give anything for even a tantrum. It's been six months since I've heard her pitter patter through the living room early in the morning and felt her crawl into bed beside me for cuddles. Six months. This is my valley. These are my ruins.
I'm sitting amongst the ruins I know He can rebuild. If I'm honest I can even see the plowing taking place. The dry bones are rattling as I look over this valley. He is my tender shepherd, and if it means restoration and redemption take place only for the sake of his holy name, I'm okay with that. As crass, short-sighted, and selfish it may sound there is relief for me when it's all about him. Though I am slain his breath will give me life. So, breathe on me, O breath of God, so all may know YOU are God.
Comments
Post a Comment