Isaiah 43

I did not think I would survive as wave after 50 foot wave rose and crash landed over me  with barely a second to catch my breath between assaulting salty boulders, each one sucking my strength and extinguishing hope 

How would I get through? 
How could I live and keep my brood living too?

I listened to a song on repeat in that season “Jesus you are the anchor of my soul…. solid as a rock and heavy on my heart… you are a force strong as gravity – but you never weigh me down”

This was truth I could barely believe so I just held on to the threads of it with my mind, while my metaphorical blood flooded my vital organs just to keep my heart beating.

The chorus of the song is “faithful one, I am counting on your loving kindness”

I remember hearing this as I stood in my kitchen, children in and out, dinner being prepared by the autopilot version of me. 

Tears spilled silently for a very long time.

My heart’s cry was that somehow he would dive in and just give me something, anything, on which to stand.

That “loving kindness” would simply mean making a way for me to live.

As I chopped vegetables my mouth uttered “it will have to be you, I can’t”

Gradually over those months and the years that followed, I learned to let go, to stop treading water and to not panic when faced with such waves – for many more were still to come. 

I learned to turn and face him, to look into his eyes as the salt stung mine. And even as the waters pushed me below the surface I learned that if I kept looking into his eyes I would not drown, I would not just survive, I would live.

And so he redeemed me from those deep, dark, overwhelming days. 

He restored my heart to myself and collected up the debris that had been carried off by the tides of pain. 

He became the rock on which I could rest
He became the life ring that kept me upright. 
He became the energy bars and electrolytes that kept me sustained

He did not take me away from the pain, he did not make it all better, he did not stop the suffering, or placate me with lovely words designed to force feeling better.

He did none of that. 

Rather he became my coach, my champion, my biggest cheerleader.

“Beloved”, he cried through the raging storms “I am here, you are not alone“ or

“you’ve got this” or “put your feet down” or “kick” or “drink this, but keep going”

He became my grit
He became my resilience 
He became my anchor and – gradually – I found He had become my living hope and I began to believe I may yet live again

And so I do, now, live a full and beautiful life.
One that is a daily testimony of redemption, of resurrected life, one more beautiful than it ever was in the days before my shipwreck, before the destruction of the world I knew as safe.

Those days are seen through the coverings of grace and forgiveness – by his stripes and my surrender

I look back and weep as I see just how perfect my Jesus is.  

The perfect friend 
The perfect coach 
The perfect husband and co-parent 
The perfect friend 
The perfect truth teller 

“do not fear I have redeemed you, I have summoned you by name, you are mine… when you pass through the waters I will be with you” Isaiah 43

naomi sarah