The mountain air is clear and crisp this morning. I inhale its freshness, releasing a deep sigh. Oh, how thankful I am to return to Appalachia. Its sheer beauty calms my troubled soul. I offer my breath as a prayer—not knowing exactly what to pray, I allow the Spirit to work in me and through me. Perhaps it’s better that way.
How many times have I begged and pleaded with God, telling Him how I think a situation should turn out? In those moments, I’d be better off just laying the problem at His feet and waiting for His response. But that’s not human nature and certainly not my nature to patiently wait. This type A personality wants answers now. Show me what to do, Lord and I’ll make it happen.
Certainly, I’m a fixer at heart. That’s probably why I gravitated to a career in medicine. But as I’ve grown older (and hopefully a bit wiser), I’ve come up against the stark reality that not everything is fixable. How do I repair a broken heart, heal a grieving soul, or satisfy unrealized dreams? Sometimes instead of doing, I must learn how to be. Be present. Be a listener. And be a conduit of grace.
I scout out clues in a person’s history and physical, just as I search for signs of spring on my morning hike. The earnestness of my quest may lead me to a diagnosis, but a solution isn’t always quick or readily available. Even though I find evidence of new life in the undergrowth of the forest, my discovery doesn’t hurry along the desired change in the seasons.
Jesus ushered in the Kingdom of God during His time on earth. Part of that Kingdom is present now but much of it will arrive in the future. The tension between the now and the not yet can be difficult to bear as we wait for the culmination of His promises. Those of us who follow Jesus, carry the burden of wounds that won’t be fully healed until a new season dawns.
But the scars on His hands and the wound in His side are reminders that Jesus understands our pain and He bears it with us. We are not alone in our brokenness. His Spirit fills us with hope in every inspiration and in turn, we exhale hope into the world.
Lord, let me offer my breath as a prayer. Show me how to do what I can while accepting what I can’t. Thank You for choosing imperfect humans like me to be your conduits of love and grace to a hurting world.
Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted. But he was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his wounds we are healed.
Isaiah 53:4-5 ESV
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