He Sees Me

The last weeks have gone vastly different than planned. As God allows, we travel North again today, finally back to our home but for various reasons, it may only be a few days before we leave for another location. For the last few days, I’ve been raw and on the edge of tears. Please pray with us for safety, settling and the ability to stay in our Injibara home for more than a few days. 

Have you ever chosen a word for the year? As I explained in the last post, I have only chosen one in retrospect, giving a year a word in hindsight but this year, I was challenged by a friend to intentionally find a word to focus on in the future, 2018. I had initially thought of the word abundant but am I allowed to shift mid-January? If so, this time, it’s a phrase. Maybe I am more like a-word-of-the-week kind of gal. 

 At our Spiritual Life Conference we spent some time reflecting and discussing this Rembrandt painting, “The Storm On the Sea of Galilee”. We had a very large image of the painting and I don’t know if it will have the same effect here but what stood out most to me was the disciples desperately pulling on the sails, doing everything in their power to keep the boat from sinking and there lays Jesus, peaceful, all-knowing, unphased. 

He saw the disciples in their distress. When asked to reflect on what emotions we felt while looking at the painting, I was surprised one of my first emotions was frustration. How could Jesus be witnessing the desperate state of his friends and just calmly sit there? Why wasn’t he intervening? How could He have been sleeping? I know He is with us in every storm but why does he sit? I’m okay having these emotions because I know God is big enough to handle them. Since then, I’ve mentally returned to this image and new thoughts flood my mind. Jesus saw them. He wasn’t ignoring the storm, and just as the disciples can rest in the assurance Jesus is in the boat, I can too. He sees me. He sees my storms. He sees me in the night time feedings and early mornings. He sees our displaced family. He sees the beauties and the pains of our Awi neighbors. He sees the tears, mine and the ones I wipe from the cheeks of my children. He sees me, He knows me and He still invites me to rest in Him. 

He sees me.

We are not alone.

Whew! That was a bit heavier than I expected…Suitcases are waiting to be loaded and I am waiting to see if the water comes on so I can shower. I hope the next time you hear from me, I’m in Injibara!

Thanks for all your prayers!