God has said, “I will never fail you. I will never abandon you.”
—Hebrews 13:5b NLT
Jesus, you continually offer the gift of your love. And what you offer is often misunderstood. You are regarded as less than what your Word promises. You, who had no sin, unselfishly took ours. I hurt for you, Lord, when others will not allow your love to heal their pain. I cannot imagine the depth of your own pain when rejected—when abandoned. Jesus, I cannot imagine what you felt that moment your father turned his back on you because all He could see was my ugliness in you. I hurt for you, Lord, when someone holds back from surrendering a broken heart to your forgiveness—when someone refuses to trust your heart—when someone refuses to allow you to heal what only you can heal. But my broken heart is nothing compared to yours.
What we don’t understand, we joke about because it makes us uncomfortable. And if we do understand, we run from because it calls for surrender. We rebel because it asks us to reach beyond our preconceptions and allow you to have control. When we don’t accept the gift of your love—and all that encompasses—we are most alone. When we question your choices—your promises—your wishes—your purpose—we move farther and farther away from the peace of your presence. Until we abandon what we perceive as our rights—our due—we can never receive your love that abandoned all for us.
Lord, I can’t change another heart, but I can allow you to change mine. Stretch me beyond what I think I can bear—stretch me until I understand that absolute surrender is my only option—my only freedom. Keep me broken so you can continually bring out your best. Keep me humble so I have nothing to prove, but to love with the love that you so freely offer. Claim me until I have no malice—no judgment—until I abandon all the emotions which tear my heart to shreds—until I abandon my right to feel—my right to determine justice. Until then, I am alone, struggling not to drown in the mire of my own circumstance. You will never fail me, Lord. Tired of the battle of my will against yours, I am ready to surrender. You abandoned yourself for me. Now I abandon myself to you. I abandon the least of all—me—so that I might have the greatest of all—you.
© 2018 Lynn Lacher