One moment there was sunshine, the next the rains came. The young woman sat and pondered how this reflected her heart. She watched as people walked into the coffee shop she sat at. So many shapes, sizes, and cultures. So many broken hearts, some too busy to notice that they were broken, some blocking pain, but all busy with life. She thought about her own life, and all the things that had brought her to this moment. She began to wonder where these moments would take her in this new chapter of her life. Would her dreams come to pass, or would they forever be fluttering by in the wind, always someone else’s dreams being fulfilled? She ached silently over broken memories, picking through them with careful fingers of thought, gauging which were too painful to touch and which could bring some healing.
As she wandered aimlessly through her memories, she found one that brought her much pain. This memory had led her down a path that she struggled to walk back from. It brought with it more memories and moments, all of which were in a battle to keep her chained to a post stuck in the middle of a mud hole. Around the post were choices that she had made, choices that tightened the chain around her heart. Choices that were beginning to suck the very life out of her. She looked around her at all the mud. She looked out toward the edge of the depths of the mire. Squinting, she noticed a piece of paper on the edge of her prison. Straining at her chains, she stretched and grabbed the corner of the brilliant white sheet. Turning it over in her hand she noticed a strange symbol, a symbol that she knew had meant something to her at one time in her life. Reaching deep within her memories, she found the one she had been looking for. The memory of the cross. Leaning against her post, she thought back to that story of long ago. The crazy story about that Man, the One who had decided to obey His Father and journeyed to a faraway land. He had gone in search of His people, the ones that He loved; they were in slavery to a powerful and deadly master. This evil master sought to drown these people in his will, sending them all to a place of desolation and loneliness and despair. The Man knew that there was one thing and one thing alone that could save His people from the hand of their tormentor. He gave His life in death where He fought and conquered the evil one. His blood was so pure that it broke the chains crafted by the tormentor. But, the story was only beginning. The people could choose. They could call out in broken surrender to the blood and life of this Man, or they could choose to wander on their own, eventually falling back into the snares of the tormentor. Some chose to follow their Redeemer, others chose to walk their own way, eventually falling back into desolation and turmoil. The People who followed this Man at times fell away, years of habits at times giving way to a moment of being pulled back toward the loneliness and desolation, but for all who continued calling on the name of this Man, they were saved. And how they lived!
Breathing a sigh, the beginnings of a new freedom flowing through her because of the reminder of the story, she stood up. The mud she had been sitting in pulled with such strength that exhaustion began to seep in; but then she felt a strength flow into her very being. Surprised, she looked up. Looked up into the face of her Savior, the Man, the Redeemer. He lifted her up into His arms; the second that He picked her up, her muddy clothes became a splendid white. Her eyes, so sad and dead, reflected His light, His heart. And oh, how she lived!
[He] drew me up from the pit of destruction, out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon a [Rock], making my steps secure. [He] put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God. Many will see and fear, and put their trust in the Lord.