I’ve always had God.
So many times in my past, I’ve felt like that is all I had. But having only God is not a bad thing, a lesser thing; it is everything. It is…as a wordsmith with a degree in English, even as a poet, I struggle to find the words…a shedding of all to have your soul embraced by Supreme Love. When broken, when defeated, when the heart is shattered to pieces…it is all left at the altar, and God lifts it away.
He lifts it away and leaves an internal peace. A healing. A restoration. A reprieve.
My life has changed though. I have changed. I find myself still at the altar, but this time offering up the abundance, the overflow of goodness and love and blessings, because I don’t know what to do with it. I am filled beyond capacity. There is no more room in me, in this earthly body, to store it.
But I feel God telling me to keep it on Earth, to find ways to give, share, gift it to others who so desperately need it. The ones who were like me. The ones beside me at the altar, on their knees, weeping. Especially to the ones lost who don’t know the way to the altar, the ones truly alone who do not know God or have turned away before feeling His embrace.
On the drive to work, on high volume, I was singing from my soul to Lauren Daigle’s, “You Say.” It’s a popular song, though I don’t think many know it’s about God. For me today, it did start out as being about God’s love for me as usual, through it all. But then lowercase “he” kept coming into my thoughts, weaving in and out of the lyrics’ messages. And I realized how love with another, here on earth, can feel godly, and God-sent, in the sense that the right one will see all in you that God does. And cause you to believe it, to see it too.
My short story is that I have been slowly, very slowly, shedding the things said to me for so many, many years in my past that smudged and dirtied my unmagical mirror, that distorted my reflection, my view of myself. They say one must simply dispel those lies, but that one opinion, that one voice, gets deeply ingrained and changes one’s very composition it seems, impossible to wash off, to get washed away. It is a poisoning, first administered by another, then somehow the other gets the victim to administer the doses herself. I lost the ability to see myself as God does: very intentionally and lovingly designed as beautiful, precious, perfect.
When you are with the right one, there is a natural cleansing of the mirror. Just as you had come to believe the verbal abuser, you come, in time, to believe the one who loves you, come to see yourself through loving eyes. The right one sees you the way God does. It is truth. Cleansing truth. And it cleans the mirror slowly, one inch at a time, and the light begins to reflect where there was once only obstructive grime.
Thoughts of the one who loves me floated in and out of the music of the One who always has. I do not carry pain anymore, so I think of the lyrics in a past and present sense (altered below). You has become both God and him. And I am left at the altar. Teary-eyed. With that goodness-excess overflowing, with that same loss of words to describe the feelings of my soul being embraced by such an unearthly, spiritual,
When love is love, it is clear. And all the non-love of those yesterdays, those long yesteryears, becomes clear, too.
You say I am loved when I [couldn’t] feel a thing
You say I am strong when I [thought] I [was] weak
And You say I am held when I [was] falling short
And when I [didn’t] belong, oh, You say I am Yours
Thank you for so tenderly cleaning my mirror, love.