Safe place

A woman gave her testimony at church this week, one of brokenness. My story is not like hers, but she brought hope. Jesus is hope. 

I'm different. The way I live is different. The way I interact with others is different. The way I interact with Jesus is different. I haven't known exactly what to do with all of that, especially as we figure out church. Being in this place on Sunday though, with this body of believers who were surrounding this woman with love and grace: I was safe. I cried. And cried. And cried. I cried like I haven't in months. I cried like I didn't know I needed to. I cried because I felt safe to cry, safe to let it all out. I didn't talk to anyone. I didn't receive any hugs or prayer. I just met Jesus. 

Jesus is hope. Though my faith has not waivered, though I stand firm in what I believe, how I interact with that truth has changed. And yet Jesus met me there. He is my hope. He heals the brokenhearted. Psalm 56:8 says that he keeps track of every sorrow and collects all my tears. Isaiah 53:4 says that he has borne our grief and carried our sorrow. Matthew 5:4 says blessed are they who mourn, for they shall be comforted. 

Jesus is hope, my hope. He will restore me. He will heal my broken heart. He will walk with me and carry me. He will not fail me. He will not forget me. Though I may have forgotten these words, He never left me. 

Do not give up. There is hope for restoration, for your future. Your mourning will turn into laughter, your sorrow into joy. Mine hasn't yet, not completely, but I know in whom my hope resides. I know I am safe in His arms, and so are you. I praise God today for time to weep and time to worship.