Hope for the Hopeless

Just like Mary, I can have Jesus standing right in front of me and mistake him for the grounds keeper, or gardener, or coroner…

Especially when I am sad…when my eyes are so filled with tears I could use a bucket or two....

Especially when I am deeply disappointed and all hope seems forever lost.

Grief has a way of blinding our eyes…

Grief has a way of blinding the eyes of our faith.

With our head we still know that what is true is true is true...

All - ALL - God's promises are a resounding ' Yes!' in Jesus.

But with our hearts...?

When my heart is broken, it turns into a goopy mush that seems to have forgotten... that seems to question EVERYTHING that my head is trying to remind it...

Is God still good?

Does He see me?

Can He even hear me?

Why did He allow this…???

How can Love permit THIS?!!!

Like a broken record, I loop around the ever-descending downward spiral of gloom and doom. Checking empty tombs for shards of broken hope.

Until I hear a still, small voice calling out my name... 

Mary.

There is nothing more personal in this world than when God calls your name.

Samuel.  Samuel.

Moses. Moses.

Mary.... Mary.

When the One who created me and knows me better than I know myself calls my name...

Hearing a voice implies proximity.  You must be close enough to hear… and the person speaking must be close enough so I am able to hear him.

God... is close enough... to speak… to me!

God...

is close enough...

God is ...

near enough...

to speak...

to me.

Even me!

And this revelation, this lifting of the veil from our eyes, and our ears, and our hearts... this self-disclosure of God-who-is-near-enough-to-speak-to-me-so-I-can-hear-Him makes all the difference in the world.

All the difference in Mary's world.

All the difference in your world... and mine.

Today... if you hear His voice... do not harden your heart... Hebrews 3:7

My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me.  John 10:27