The day after a thunder storm I took a walk and found a nest in the middle of the sidewalk. Skillfully made with twigs and covered in a downy fuzz, I stopped and stared at it. Emily Dickinson’s poem fluttered down from the branches above my head:
“Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all”
Fragility and life rested there on the hard concrete. My soul was strangely stirred. My own ancient heartache welled up from my chest. I tasted the pain of my overwhelming need for hope.
Like a tiny bird my soul opened its mouth and squawked for me to fill it with light. I wasn’t so certain I had any extra to spare.
But this cold chunk of cement is where I will choose to believe differently than I have in the past. It is the test of all who believe, the walk of all who lay their pride down and carry crosses of great weight. What will we say on the day the safe nests of life fall from secure places? What will we cling to when the storms have uprooted our dreams and block our view of God?
Mountain, move! Tree, be uprooted!
How soon, will The Lord come? I don’t know, but my eyes will not rest until my help rains down from heaven; until the blank wall before us blazes with the greatness of The Lord; until a chariot descends in glory.
Those who endure in faith, though they hold broken hope, will see the Lord right in the place of their great need.
This is faith: Turning our disappointed and weary faces toward the source of Light before the darkness lifts, and calling what is not as though it were. We build new nests beneath His wings of grace by believing even when God seems to have forgotten our prayers or misplaced His plans to rescue us. The difficult road is how He purifies our hearts, so that we can see Him more clearly.
Lord, thank you for fallen nests that make room for new faith. Thank you for holding our hope skillfully and our broken hearts so tenderly. Fill this week with Your presence, salt our days with your truth, and cause us to lie down in green pastures with You. We turn our faces toward the hills, and we wait for You to come rescue us from every distress, to heal every sickness, to sing songs of deliverance over our frustrations, our anger, and our pain. Thank you for purifying our hearts so that we can see You more clearly. Give us eyes to see and hearts to know Your ways.
Hello Carrie- I read this story earlier on another blog today, and thought it was relevant to this post of yours here:
http://www.aholyexperience.com/2014/10/how-to-keep-hoping-when-you-want-to-give-up/
Take care,
Grace.
Thank you for sharing, Grace, It's a beautiful post.Yes. This is the season of digging down and waiting for me.