In every stumble, with skinned knees and crocodile tears, my daughters limp to my wife for her healing touch. In the habit of mercy, Jamie will instinctively shower down a chorus of Gilead’s Balm; a bandaid of healing in her kisses. Entering in to the pain, she will rockabyebaby until the choppy breaths give way to silence.
It is in this visual that the Hebrew prophet Zephaniah reminds us, that our Father is here in the pain. He is among us in the ashes.
He is with us in the blood and tears.
“He will quiet us with His love. He will sing over us songs of healing…”
And I kick and scream for answers, for immediate healing and mercy! I incessantly demand for His intervention from these self-inflicted wounds; in my stumbling again, my knees are bleeding. And I want to shout for His hand to comfort the distressed and distress the comfortable. I ache for the remedy of all things new.
“Shhhh….” I can feel the Divine embrace, and lean in closely to the pneumatic whisper, “I love you.”
“But God,” I scream, “Look at these knees! Look at this bloodstain on the concrete! Have you no empathy for my suffering?”
And as my raging tears soften to a muffle, I find my rest in the arms of His song, “Who can separate you from my love? Can death or life? Angels or demons? Fears for today or worries about tomorrow? Not even the powers of hell can separate us from my love. No power in the sky above or the earth below [nothing!] in all creation will ever be able to separate us from this Divine embrace that is revealed in the cross of Jesus Christ.”