The Secret Place

As the glimmers of a new season start to appear with the first snowdrop or copper coloured leaf, the Lord leads us into the new. What a gorgeous time it’s been waiting on Him and reclining in the secret place. Refreshed and renewed.

Eighteen months ago I wanted to write on Truth in time for Christmas but I found I couldn’t write and share from a place of overflow so I didn’t. One word that breathed into me during that time was “rest”. “Okay Lord,” I said “I’ll rest for January, that’s really sweet of you. I’ll have a newborn, it’s good to rest.” But then I struggled to write again. Okay I’ll write on Truth for Easter. Again no overflow. I questioned whether the Lord had left me, (of course not! Deut 31:6!). Of course I could have written on Truth from my intellect, but that never measures up to writing from wisdom. I wanted nothing less than to write from the complete overflow of Jesus. Months of wilderness, moments of thick blackness and a rising of deep issues. Jesus was stripping away the world from me, He was gently untangling the deep knots I had made into his perfect knit. All the moments I believed Jesus had pushed me away (because life had got hard) he was actually drawing me in to be near to Him. To just be still.

As I live, breathe and sing the gospel, I’m amazed at the extraordinary encounters he sets up in my very ordinary life. Humbled when total strangers start to talk about the deep issues on their heart. I’ve spoken to so many people over the years telling of his great love for all and reflecting His passion for the hearts of all people. Through it all the Lord was letting me know he hasn’t forgotten me, He delights in me, He leads me to meet him in the secret place. As a mother calls her children in from the garden, he was calling me back in to tell me how much he loves me. He wipes my face, tends to my wounds, builds me up and makes me ready for new places. He places scriptures in my heart as I sleep peacefully then He wakes me up with songs.

I was throwing my son up in the air the other morning and always for the first throw his eyes are wide for a split second when he realises he’s left the safety of my hands and then he squeals with joy to fall back in them, again and again with less and less fear, putting his arms up for me to throw him up one more time. He was giggling as I squidged him and kissed his cheeks and neck over and over. I saw so clearly how God loves me. Where ever He throws me, He’s got me. He just can’t get enough of me. In His arms, in the secret place, it’s the relationship that matters and comes first. Everything then overflows from the beauty of just being with Him.

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