...sitting at His feet...thank God, He is enough...

Luke 10:38-41
Now it came to pass, as they went, that He entered into a certain village: and a certain woman named Martha received Him into her house.
And she had a sister called Mary, which also sat at Jesus’ feet, and heard his word.
But Martha was cumbered about much serving, and came to Him, and said, “Lord, dost thou not care that my sister hath left me to serve alone?  bid her therefore that she help me.”
And Jesus answered and said unto her, “Martha, Martha, thou art careful and troubled about many things:
But one thing is needful:  and Mary hath chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from her.”

Is this not the essence of loving Him?  To sit at Jesus’ feet?  To rest in Him?  What we have learned, sitting at His feet, shall not be taken away from us.

What if we are too weary, too battered with life, to sit at His feet?  What if we are lying wounded on the battlefield of life?

Have you ever held a child, flushed with fever, who did not want to leave the comfort of your arms?  And did you wrap your arms around that little one and drink in the softness of baby hair and the weight of a little warm body and little arms around your neck?  And did you find a cool washcloth for a hot forehead, or a drink for a sore throat?  doing your best to soothe, and help speed the healing?

Is this not what He does for us?  He gives us a safe place to rest in Him, we who are battered and bruised with life.  There is a time to work for Him; a time to busy ourselves in His service.  But when we who are His soldiers are lying wounded on the battlefield of life (to borrow another picture from Amy Carmichael’s book Rose from Brier); when we are wounded, we cannot draw our swords. 

He does not put us to rest on a shelf (“we have declined the easy, laid-aside, cracked-china view of the matter,” as she says).  For us, His wounded soldiers, He takes us to a place of healing--His “field hospital,” if you will--out of the heat of the battle, where we can rest and heal. 

When I am in the darkest places, I cannot pray.  Sometimes I cannot focus enough to read my Bible, or any good Christian books of encouragement.  At one time, this was a source of frustration for me, adding to my already addled and frazzled state of mind.  How could i get better if I could not open the Word?  How could I feed my mind?  My mind was so broken, that I must be in desperate need of it...but no.

He who made me, He remembers that “[I am] dust.”  He is at the Father’s right hand, interceding for me.  Sometimes with “groanings that cannot be uttered.”  If He can do that for me, do I need to worry when, no matter how I try, my mind will not be still?  Do I need to add guilt onto the pain that already seems too much to bear?  In place of the guilt, He gave me of this picture of Mary sitting at His feet.  My weary mind did not need more activity.  It needed rest and healing. 

So He sent me rest, in the form of modern medical care and medicine.  He sent me healing, in the form of behavioral therapy techniques to help with the panic attacks and racing thoughts.  And above all, He sent me His love, wrapped around me and in pictures of Him...everywhere.  Beautiful sunrises and sunsets; winter wonderlands of snow and ice; notes of encouragement that meant more than I can say; hugs from friends when I most needed it but sometimes when i least expected it; laughter and love of my family; good movies; and...with time...a measure of focus to be able to read again from my Bible and wonderful books of stories and encouragement.

There will always be tough days, I think.  It has been over a year since the worst of it.  I wonder if I will never completely be free of this.  But if not, it is okay.  Where I am weak, He is strong.  He will carry me through.  And thank God, He is enough.