This weekend has been a roar of emotion. And yet in this moment, there is just peace and quite. For in a season when it all is falling apart, the sounds of large concrete slabs of life crashing to the ground can be deafening. The demolition crew storms in with explosions of emotion that tear, drag, and push the soul to desperation. And in it all, so much reaching and crying for an answer. To wake in the morning and have the feeling that you would pay to have your life fast-forwarded even a few weeks; to know that you will already hate the day that is to come.
But in this place tonight, my soul is light. A small closed-lipped smile perches above my chin, ever so softly sitting on my skin. It almost feels like a day in the early summer, where you feel that if you breathed out too hard you would blow the sun away, and be forced to endure a week more of winter. All you can do is hold your breath and let the the rays of sun float like warm snowflakes to bronze skin of gold.
This is the feeling of my Jesus. To have all the world crashing around you. To have the roar go silent. The piano keys play through the air, and the warmth of joy floats like the scent of fresh baked apple pie. I sit in his arms. I know that he is with me, even in this. And those words float through my lips again and again almost as if I am searching for their meaning. “God is good, even in this. Even in This. Even in This. …God is good.” If the place where Jesus resides finds itself to be the middle of the war zone, missiles making their way through with ultimate danger, it would make no matter. Where Jesus is crashing in is right where I want to be. It is right where I want to sit. With a soft smile, and the feeling moving through me like a soft warm blanket straight from the dryer. That is what a hug from Jesus feels like you know. I set out when I was young, to physically feel the touch of my Jesus deep in the days of desperation. And here I sit, brokenhearted once again, with my world breaking like puzzle pieces. But the difference is that now I know what a warm blank hug of Jesus is. I know his voice. I know his hand. I sit with him, right in his lap. He touches my face like warm sun. I pay the falling pieces of debris no mind, for I know that they won’t matter. The world is slow. The touches are soft. The bleeding is still falling from my clothing, but I lay my head on his chest and just let it be. It does not hurt here. There is no pain in this place. The war can rage, but my Jesus will not leave. He will not let go. There is no crashing, thrashing or cries of pain. Just soft and light and peace. Lightly flitted eyes, and lightly curled lips. Golden light and cherry blossoms.
For now I know. I know there is a difference. And though the war may rage around me. I know now, to pay it no mind.
Jenni Brown Writes. 