. . . continued
I lay still, fallen, two minutes, six, nine.
Until I finally am flooded with enough adrenaline to move.
The arrow puncture isn't life-threatening . . . yet.
I am weak enough to crawl but not strong enough to cry.
So I whisper:
Healer, Healer, You have to come to me.
i can't make it to You this time.
i don't feel worth healing.
i have nothing to give You but a used-up, rebellious heart.
but i've heard You are good and kind and patient.
please, please hurry.
And suddenly, my senses snap, highly sensitive,
And I hear new words as I realize there are arrows whizzing
The opposite way . . . into enemy territory.
I hear them, hear them sing.
YHWH is worthy and compassionate and kind.
He binds up the brokenhearted and heals their wounds.
He washes the sinners until they're whiter than snow.
He is love and loves you, danae.
He will not forsake you. He is faithful to you always.
I tripped into a battlefield unaware.
But not alone.
This is war,
And He is ready.
You come, O YHWH, when I am least deserving,
To remind me that Grace is that which
Grabs me under my arms and lifts me up,
That reminds me when I feel like I should have been
Better and Smarter than "that,"
That it's not about that at all,
But instead, that You are better than I could ever imagine.
Please bring me through these battles, Jesus.
Give me the energy to reach for Your truth,
To sing it always.
To let every evil arrow ricochet off the shield of faith,
Of trust in You.
You heal me in ways I don't expect.
I'm not out of danger yet.
Please train me for this war.
It is real.
You are ready.
You will win.
And somehow, I will find the strength in You
To run to You
Instead of shamefully running away.
i am on Your side.
No turning back.