Jesus Holds Me

Oh how I love rainy, dreary days. Sometimes it feels like God decides to cry with us. That is one thing I love about weather and especially the bi-polar weather of Kansas. I feel like it's a way God speaks to us, let us know he is here with us...Emmanuel. How strange it is that a simply rainstorm can make us feel like God is mourning with us. Funny how a slight warm breeze can feel like he is embracing me, or the sun peeking through the clouds can begin to brighten the day. The endless clouds rolling on the blue Kansan sky shows his infinity, creativity, and consistency. Yes, I love how just through the weather he reminds me he is here, he is with me. He is Emmanuel- God with us. He is El Roi- The God who sees me. He is my God.

So often in this world we forget that he is here among us. Here to walk with us, to help us, to hold us. Scripture often talks about the faith of a child. There is something special about it. Not fearing the future, not worrying about the past but just resting in the knowledge that God's got this. How easy it was to believe that back before the cares of this world began to choke me. What a vivid picture is given in Matthew. 

"Now the one sown among the thorns—this is one who hears the word, but the worries of this age and the seduction of wealth choke the word, and it becomes unfruitful." -Matthew 13:22

Isn't that how life is? The older we get the more cares and worries begin to choke us making us unfruitful. When all the while he is right here, ready to put all the pieces back together. I never realized how much I long to be held, to have someone hold all my falling pieces together. How easy it is to seek that from those around me only to be brutally disappointed to find they, in their humanness can't. 

When I was a little girl it was so much easier to remember my first love. Easier to trust his plan. Easier to rest in his arms. Why is it that the older we get the cares of this world weigh us down? Why is it so hard to cast them aside to run the race? I miss my childlike faith. 

My aunt has many stories of he babysitting adventures with me and my siblings. One of my favorites is when I was 2. I don't remember it, but I've heard the story enough that it feels like I do. My Aunt was watching me one evening, I had already been put to bed. Suddenly my Aunt heard me cry out. She rushed in and wrapped me up in her arms, stroked my head and tried to soothe my fears. She thought she had succeeded in calming me down when I looked up at her and said, 

"Jesus holds me." 

Jesus holds me. He holds me when I'm broken. He holds me when I'm afraid. He holds me when I feel like I'm falling apart. He holds me. 

"Jesus hold my hand. Jesus hold my heart. Jesus hold my life, and Jesus hold me."

How did I forget that he holds me. That he is the only one who can hold all the pieces together. How comforting it is to rest in his arms. How on earth could I have forgotten what it was like to be held by him? All the while seeking and desiring it from another means, a poor imitation of the real deal. When everything and everyone else fails to hold my brokenness together, Jesus holds me.