I Will Be Faithful

I imagine moving my #4 sable brush on the paper, imparting a blush of bright pink with dark, very vivid red peeking under the tightly-closed petals. The peony buds, perfect rounds of loveliness – they bring joy and inspiration to my heart in this season of painful hoping and waiting. I think about painting them, and of the already open blooms in the darkest of reds — maroon is what many people would call it, but in my palette, that would be Alizarin Crimson — and my oft-tested love and faith are somewhat soothed.

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I think of gliding my brush, anticipating the buds to take form, the red reminding me of my love for the Lord Jesus Christ that I had just renewed recently amid another hurt, another reason to slump on the ground, weak and defeated. But as I looked, and looked again, at the black mass carpeting the floor beside the bed that were my fallen hairs, I steeled my heart and declared – “I will be faithful to You! I will stick and continue with You. My strong faith in You must work on my favor” – as if my heart wasn’t near fainting and being discouraged beyond hope.

But I couldn’t allow my heart to be discouraged beyond hope.

Those traces of reds, they remind me of my wounded heart in my hand, but still wholly proffered to my Lord and Savior. I will give it to Him over and over, no matter how battered, no matter how much it’s hurting, no matter how much it’s been tried and tested.

Would the Savior that bled on the cross to make me whole break my heart? My spirit? Would He wound my hopeful and faithful heart with His silence as to my healing and deliverance from my sickness and suffering? Would He deeply hurt me by just looking on while the devil does its pleasure on me?

Would my Shepherd who promised many wonderful things in His Word allow me to be wounded like this?

Whatever is in His heart, I am not deserting Him. There’s no other place to go.

He asked Peter and the other disciples if they would also go as like the many who were offended by Him and deserted Him.

“Will ye also go away?”

Peter answered, “Lord, to whom shall we go? thou hast the words of eternal life.” (John 6:68)

To whom shall I go? To whom shall you go?

He is the way, the truth, and the life. Or have I forgotten this in the midst of my pain?

Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me. (John 14:6)

Painting the peony blooms and buds is the only thing I can do, amid the hurt and apprehension, to remember the Savior’s love, that love that was poured out on Calvary, rivulets of crimson that flowed from countless wounds and hands and feet where thick nails were driven through. I cannot for now rise up and proclaim a renewed battle against the rulers of the darkness of this age with all might and power that I don’t possess. I can only be still, and know that He is God. I can only let myself be carried in His big, capable hands until all these things have come to pass.

And I will be faithful throughout.

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