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FEBRUARY 29, 2020 – WALK ON MY HIGH HILLS

17 Though the fig tree may not blossom,  Nor fruit be on the vines;       Though the labor of the olive may fail,  And the fields yield no food;

Though the flock may be cut off from the fold,   And there be no herd in the stalls—


18 Yet I will rejoice in the LORD,  I will joy in the God of my salvation


19 The LORD God is my strength;   He will make my feet like deer’s feet, And He will make me walk on my high hills. Habakkuk 3: 17 – 19 (NKJV)


This time I am completely alone.

This time I dwell in a familiar yet unsettling space where

I hurt too much to feel and hate too much to care.

This time I’m flying solo.

This time all responsibility rests squarely on my shoulders.

This time there is no one else around me.


This time I am angry.

This time my heat oozes with an aching pain.

This time I am bitter.

This time I fear that God is like a mere mortal man

Who will ultimately break my heart the moment I dare to trust Him.


This time, after all the other tragedies in my life, I lash out at my Savior.

This time I pound my fists on the floor, the walls, the tabletops.

This time I shake angry fists upward to the ceiling hoping that

This time God will take me seriously.

This time I jump on His back and

This time I dig the claws of my character into His back and

This time I shall not let go until I am assured that He hears me.

For this time I shall not fall for flowery, flowing phrases.


And this time I shall not be placated by passes promising peace.


This time I want an answer.


This time I want specifics.

This time I want to know why.

This time I shall not fake my feelings.

This time I shall not pretend that I will be all right.

This time I shall not cover my emotions, only fooling myself; never my Creator.

This time I scream.

This time the scream is so loud and so long until

This time it hurts my own ears.

This time I cry.


No, this time I weep.

No, this time I sob.

No, this time I wail.

No, this time I mourn.

No, this time I howl.

For this time I cannot dry my own tears.

This time my very core has been chopped down.

This time the very fibers of the fabric of my being have been permanently


frayed,


frazzled and


fragmented.


And this time He pauses from holding the whole world in His hands.

This time He stoops low to tenderly pick me up and gently hold me in His hands.

This time the Great Shepherd carries me, His broken and wounded lamb, to the still waters.

This time I’m led to the peaceful still waters where I find comfort and consolation.

This time He rocks me in His arms.

This time He cuddles me in His bosom.

This time He anoints my head with oil.

This time He caresses me with the candlelight warmth of His Holy Ghost fire.

This time He washes away my soul’s pain.


This time He is there to remind me once again that He has always been there.

Yet, this time He is closer than I ever remember Him being before.


This time I accept His love completely.


This time I am healed.

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