The next thirteen years, Mrs. Abraham's breakfast, lunch and dinner consisted of ample servings of what we may call consequence.
Awk-ward.
Mrs. Abraham watches and listens…
"GodHears" nursing. "GodHears" taking his first step. "GodHears" saying his first word. "GodHears" calling Abraham Papa. "GodHears" starting Kindergarten. "GodHears" scores his first goal during a soccer game. The undeniable love story between her Egyptian servant-girl and "GodHears" unfolding before Sarah's eyes.
The love story that should have been hers. The love story that God promised would be hers!
Damn it!
Mrs. Abraham slams the flap of their tent and storms out into the moonless night. She lifts her head and roars towards star-clustered sky. Like a mortally wounded lioness.
God! GOD! G-O-O-O-O-D?!!!! What ARE YOU DOING?!!!Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! There! I said it. I said the bad word! Kill me for it! I wish You would! I'd love You for it! Can't stand it anymore. I give up! I quit! I surrender! You win! I lose. Are You happy now???
The stars blink silently in t he velvety sky.
Just take me... I want to dieeeeeeeee......
Her sobs finally break the invisible wall inside her soul that has been built one brick at a time, one insult, one despised look, one whispered conversation which got interrupted when she showed up at a time, day after day after day of her almost ninety - NINETY! - year old life. The Niagara Falls damn gave in and the torrents of pain were unleashed.
God, God, God... I am done. ... I ... give... up! Take me... please... take me...
She throws herself on the ground and wails, the desert wind carrying the sound of her voice across the dunes. She wails and sobs, and sobs and wails until her throat is raw, until her lungs hurt, until the last drop of strength is used up and she passes out, exhausted. When she opens her eyes again,her face crusted with sand and dried-up snot, the same sky looks down on her silently. She blinks at the stars and stars blink back at her. She slowly rolls around and lays flat on her back savoring something she hasn't felt in a long, long time.
For every square inch of her aching body is filled... overwhelmed... even conquered by...
...peace?
Rest?
Peaceful rest?
Restful peace?
It feels so strange... so unfamiliar...
Is… this… what surrender... to God... feels like?
Lord Jesus, we clutch and we hang on. We stiffen our neck and our upper lip. We scratch and we claw and try sooo hard until we can't hold it any longer. Sometimes the first honest word You hear from our mouth is the roar of our wounded heart. Finally! For not only You can handle it, but You wait for us to do it! Quit trying to figure it out on our own. Thank You that we can be more brutally honest with You than any other person on this earth. Thank You that You want the straight talk from us. Not empty words embellished with pious nonsense but the honest cry of the broken heart. What a place of rest You prepare for all who surrender to You and Your ways in such a way! Help us, O Lord, help us to live a life of such surrender moment by moment each day of our lives until we see You face to face.
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