I grieve for you, daughter. You claimed you were so strong, yet you took the same path your sister stumbled on.
Each piece of my heart was left to bleed afresh.
I grieve for you, daughter. You claimed you were so strong, yet the world you have entered laughed as you became their edible flower.
How did I miss, like Jacob, the seed you harbored here? Where your feelings reign supreme, sprouting idols of emotion that choked out the truth?
What part did I play in the birthplace of your defiance?
Was it disrespect I thought you didn’t notice or anger justified, the multitude of times I yelled at you and never apologized? Could it be all those arguments Dad and I thought we hid from you?
Or every teachable moment I squandered on all my selfish pursuits?
This was me twenty years ago—okay, closer to ten. But I was learning, I was growing, I wasn’t where I am now, so many light-years ahead.
Oh, why did you have to be cannon fodder on the field of my maturity?
What if plagues me at night. Would you have still made the same choices, if not for my mistakes? I will never know.
I tried to reach your hand, to hold on for dear life.
But you slipped . . .through . . .my . . .fingers.
It was agony watching you fall.
Your valley of decision has left a chasm between us I am forbidden to traverse. (1 Cor. 5:11)
Do you think about his wife? She is still his wife, you know. A piece of paper doesn’t change that. The two shall become one may be inconvenient for you, but God’s ways are perfect.
Marriage is not a trading-card game, subject to mood and desire. As long as there’s breath, till death do us part is a vow let no one put asunder. God did not change His mind for you.
Why did you change the truth of God for a lie? (Rom. 1:25)
He is the same yesterday, today, and forever.
God does not change His will for our whims.
How big is your bottle, God? Won’t it overflow?
I am weeping. Weeping for all that could have been—new sons, my daughters, and an ever-widening family circle.
I ache to trace the soft spot amid the finest hairs and feel the caress of tiny hands upon my aged skin.
I ache to catch a dimple flash in a laugh that lassoes happy tears. And kiss each and every perfect toe. I ache to hold, hold, hold . . . but I’ve been instructed to release anything I love more than Christ.
He that loveth father or mother more than me is not worthy of me: and he that loveth son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. And he that taketh not his cross, and followeth after me, is not worthy of me. Matthew 10:37-38
I grieve for you, daughter. I still hold a soft spot filled with hope at my center, but it will remain encased and steely hard against the softness of sin, the mush of tolerance, the yielding to the enemy of our souls for a moment of pleasure.
Woe be to those who choose the varied delicacies of Egypt over the unchangeable Manna of God.
I would rather enter the kingdom of God maimed (oh, I am maimed!), then enter hell with hands and feet.
Wherefore if thy hand or thy foot offend thee, cut them off, and cast them from thee: it is better for thee to enter into life halt or maimed, rather than having two hands or two feet to be cast into everlasting fire. Matthew 18:8
I was not left to marvel. Christ told us beforehand. (Matt. 10:34-36) But it does not lessen the pain.
Please God, can we go back and make it right?
Alas . . . I cannot go back in time. I can only go forward in prayer.
And every one that hath forsaken houses, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or lands, for my name’s sake, shall receive an hundredfold, and shall inherit eternal life. Matthew 19:29
Abiding in the Vine,
You may like to read my bittersweet-turned-joyful poem.
The post “Each Piece of My Heart ” first appeared on Desert Rain.