A couple of months ago, I woke up from a physical ambush that let me know what bodily “collusion” looked like. My back and neck must have made some sort of clandestine agreement to pinch, stab, throb, send electrical shocks through arms and limbs, and conduct random bouts of numbness every time my mind slipped off the ledge of delirium towards sleep. I hoped no one had high expectations or planned crises on such a low function day.
After two cups of coffee, reading through some Psalms, then sitting on the beauty of Proverbs that personifies wisdom, these words about pain flowed from the night before.
Pain is the enemy that has no hands but a powerful grip.
He has no face but an angry countenance.
He has no voice but a scream that can be deafening.
He has no respect for the righteous and imposes himself on the weak.
Pain does not listen, does not quit, does not sleep.
Pains grip is not stronger than God’s embrace.
His countenance disappears in the light of His face.
His scream is easily muzzled by Gods whisper to my heart.
His disrespect brings glory to the righteous and Gods strength to the weak.
God bends down and listens, He never fails, and He never sleeps.
In all of pains arguments, God has a greater answer:
His grace is sufficient, His mercy is everlasting, and His love is more than enough for me.
I may have been sleepless the night before, but so was my Father. This grace is where I struggle to press my thoughts when my body revolts. It’s where my soul rests when pain won’t. The assurance of His love is my anchor of hope. And one day, despite all the collusion of the enemy, pain will be gone, death destroyed, and not a tear shed for any reason any more.