Into the Fire

           (Part of Chapter 23 of my Work in Progress titled Seeing . . . )

Reinstatement

Grief smothered me for so long after my wife died, like a pillow pressed over my face until I thought my last breath would leave me anytime. The heartache felt like hands squeezing the life out of my heart muscle. I really wondered if I could’ve been experiencing heart failure. And, truthfully, I hoped I was. It was beyond my capability to care beyond my loss. The pain intensified from the initial awareness of losing her to the ultimate reality of not ever seeing her lovely face and touching her supple body again in this life. Of never hearing her voice calling me, telling me how much she loved me. I admit I wished I would die. When I tried to talk to Jesus, I would only weep. The crying became so exaggerated that I limited my attempts to reveal my needs or plead for His assistance. My effort seemed to only add to my sorrow. The rock bottom wouldn’t come—it felt endless. My relative youth kept me bound by my sadness and unable to sustain hope for the future.

Until one morning after several hours in my truck lost in sleep, I pushed open the zippered curtain separating me from my cab and got blasted by such penetrating light I had to squint to see anything. Warm light transcending the windshield and the winter chill. Blinding me to everything but my immediate surroundings. And it was then that I knew a choice would be required. Light or dark. Healing or sickness. Hopeful or hopeless. My decision to make. Mine alone. Of course the weeping began but this time I begged my Savior for His rescue, His healing touch to my broken heart. I told him I was sorry I couldn’t rise above the pain and loneliness, that I’d made it an idol of sorts. Because I knew I had.

Supernatural events can’t be described. Oh we try so they can be shared for inspiration and affirmation and confirmation. But they’re never quite the same in the human language as they are in the language of the Spirit. All I can really say is that light came into my truck and enclosed me in arms that held me strong and firm and let me weep. I felt His tears drip onto my face. He knew.

That’s all I needed to be reinstated: to know that He understood. And for Him to know I finally understood as well. When I eventually climbed down from my truck, the dark gray sky poured a cold icy rain. But the light still shone in my heart.

Father, you bring words to life, you inspire them, you give them meaning. Apart from you, I can do nothing. Thank you is never enough. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.