Your tired eyes came here for a nugget of hope and truth. Aren’t we all searching for it? Your heart yearns for more, you know theres more than a month of Sundays and hopes for Fridays. But you're burned out and you've been burned. I want to speak to you, I want you to hear what I see. Beautiful, lovely, intricately unique you. The one who squirms at the thought of her being lovely. It’s you girl, I’m looking at you.
I see your humility. The way you humbly took a breath of chance to read more about who Christ is on a random Wednesday. Because you know it’s not truly random. Nothing in His universe is random. Purposeful, deliberate, never one moment the same or assumed. Your heart beautifully bowed to Him. Because you know deep in it that He is your heart beat. You pour out the moment you are filled, because you know this world needs your pouring, and you love actively.
I see you the way your hands are cracked from dishes and diapers and all things heavy. Your work doesn’t have walls of a 9-5 but surrenders to the late night feedings and early morning wakings. The swollen feet and the outstretched heart to your people. The blessings you’ve been given that overwhelm and simultaneously bring you to your gratitude worn knees. You pause to pick the flowers, because you recognize the work of your Father and you marvel.
The way you’ve saved money, made money, and used money is a talent sweet sister. You realize that every gift is from above. That there’s more to life than what shines and your wisdom outshines them all. They stare at you from the check out lines with their advice that would rot a soul, but you keep your eyes fixed on Him. You smile at the lady bagging your groceries, worn and tired, and utterly beautiful. You see her deeply for the creation she is. The glass between you is a tool the enemy is using to separate you but your hearts collide anyway. Because you know, you both know, there is more to this hard beat down life.
You create. And more so, allow yourself to be created and recreated. Not by the changing culture, no, to that you stand firm. But, surrendered and easily molded to a Creative God who wants to change you and refine you. Sometimes the refining is with fire, you know, you’ve burned. But, you ultimately surrender because, well, where else is there to go? Who else to trust, but the one who created you? His will is slowly becoming yours as you allow his hands to cup your face, whisper truth of whose you are, and lead you to better. You forge space for your people to learn, to grow, to eat. You see a vision of the day ahead and you step into it with a plan that you hold loosely up to God and allow Him to remake it as needed, and remake you.
The image changing and contorting apps have nothing on the real you. You are timeless. And if you truly look. Look deep into the lines created by years of love lived out, you can smile again with all your being because you know. You truly are a remarkable thing. The way your tummy has stretched to make room for that child, and the way you’ve stretched to make space for the one hard to love in the cubicle next to yours. I see you. I see your desire for perfection to be reflected in the mirror. For the crunches and hours at the gym to have meant a thing. For the spray tan and nip and tuck to have brought joy. But you know, in your depth, that that type of beauty is fleeting, if it ever existed at all. That you are beautiful, because the most miraculous artist thought purpose and necessity to make you. Yes you. Exactly you.
Your desire to be seen is fulfilled by Him daughter. He sees the way you wake up to open His word and search for meaning. He hears your heart cries for the things that aren’t and your gratitude for His gifts. He sees the way you wrangle your family to get to church, because He knows you know, it’s worth it. The breath you take at the beginning of worship is His Being, His Spirit, rejuvenating you, because He sees. He sees the way you continue to push in when you feel pushed out, because He’d never push you out. He’s always pulling you into Himself. His daughter, the daughter of the king. So you can breathe out the need to be seen by others. The desire to be noticed for your hard words. The crave of applause is fulfilled by your Daddy sweet daughter, He sees you.
His new name is written on your face. Hephzibah, His delight is in her. And you glow. You are no longer desolate and your land is filled. Hephzibah, you hear it again. You breath in the sweet thought that this God is delighted in you! You are not empty, you are full with the Spirit of a lion, strong and brave, beyond anything this earth could offer. You can choose to delight in the gifts around you, because you are delighted in.
You there, striving to get better, to be more. Would you stop? Would you trust Him enough to rest? You got here didn’t you? In your gut you know it wasn’t for your striving but for His carrying. I know it’s heavy daughter, but your Dad is standing right there. Waiting. Arms stretched. Wanting to help you. He loves your stubborn motivation and chuckles with love. He wants to use it. But not this way. Lay down your load. And you breath lighter. Your shoulders straighten. You can do it.
Look again. Look deeper this time. Do you see what I see now? Do you see the intricate beautiful details of who you are? Do you see the talent within you and the treasure you just are? To this broken and decaying world you are a flower risen from the ash. The one who determined to wrap herself up in a blanket of grace because she knew it to be the most beautiful thing.
Do you see her? Can you love her now? Will you allow her to be loved?
I liked you from the very start. You there, coming here for a hope of truth. He sees you. He sees us. Now breathe again. This time fuller. Breathe in all of who God made you to be and be her.
Love Jessica