The world marches on oblivious to her sorrow. She covers her face in her hands and weeps. Her heart is broken; her dreams lie shattered. Unless the Father comes, all hope is gone.
It’s business as usual in the courts of Heaven. Melodious songs of adoration fill the air, exalting the ever-faithful Lover of the universe. “Hosanna, Hosanna, Hosanna! Blessing, and glory, and wisdom, and thanksgiving, and honor, and power, and might be unto God forever and ever.”
Messengers, intent upon their assignments, scurry eager to do the Father’s business. Constant motion; blessed peace. A smile, glorious, wondrous, and warm radiates from the Father’s face, and He whispers, “This is good, very, very good.”
Then just as quickly, the smile is gone. Heaven senses the urgency of the moment, and stills. All eyes are upon the Father as He leans intently forward, and with quiet authority speaks: “Listen, my daughter is crying.”
He bends his ear, intent upon her cry. He knows her. He loves her. She is His own. And, she is in trouble.
The cords of death entangle her; the torrents of destruction overwhelm her. In her distress, she calls to Him for the Lord is her rock, her fortress, her deliverer. He is her refuge, her shield, her strength. At once, before she finishes her plea, He leaps into action. The earth trembles and quakes. The foundations of the mountains shake and tremble. Her God, her rock, her strength - the very God of the universe is angry.
Smoke rises from His nostrils; a consuming fire, and blazing coals come from His mouth. With a sudden fierceness, He parts the heavens, and He comes down. Dark clouds are under His feet. He mounts the cherubim, and begins to fly. He soars on the wings of the wind. Darkness is His covering; the canopy about Him, the dark rain clouds of the sky. Out of the brightness of His presence, clouds advance, with hailstones and bolts of lightning.
She feels so alone. The storm frightens her. She does not know that He is in the storm.
Suddenly her Lord thunders from heaven; His voice - the voice of the Most High - the voice of her Father - reverberates through the darkness. He shoots His arrows, and her enemies scatter. With great bolts of lightning, He throws them into great tumult. At His rebuke, at the blast of breath from His nostrils, the valleys of the sea are exposed, and the foundations of the earth are laid bare.
Then He reaches down for her.
He takes hold of her. He draws her out of deep waters. He folds her to His bosom, and she warms with the nearness of His embrace. He rescues her from her powerful enemy, from her foes who were too strong for her. Her enemy, brazen and cold, confronted her in the day of her disaster, but the Lord was her support.
He brought her out into a spacious place; He rescued her because He delights in her. Did you hear that? The God of the universe, moved heaven and earth today, because He delights in her.
Her spirit calms, she dries her tears, and whispers to her God, “You, O Lord, will keep my lamp burning; you my God will turn my darkness into light. With Your help, I can advance against a troop; with You, I can scale a wall. You arm me with strength and make my way perfect. You stoop down to make me great. You arm me with strength for the battle."
Fresh hope stirs within her and she shouts with joy to her God, “The Lord lives! Praise be to my Rock! Exalted be God my Savior! I will praise You among the nations, O Lord; I will sing praises to Your name. I am Your anointed, and You show kindness to me.”
He makes her enemies to bow at her feet. He makes them turn their backs in flight, and she will destroy them. They cry for help, even to the Lord, but He does not answer them. They do not know Him. They are not His own.
He knows her. He loves her. She is His own.
“Listen my daughter’s crying.”
In praise and adoration to her King.
© Ronda Knuth