Healer of The Heart

The two story farmhouse with faded paint breathes of memories and history from the old New England days, situated at the top of a winding driveway where cell phone service is nonexistent. Beyond stands a barn no longer standing and a weary lawn beginning to flair with green.

“There are a lot of people here,” my friend approached our car window in surprise at the number of cars parked on the gravel driveway. “She might not be doing very well.”

Cautiously we entered the house, slipping off shoes at the entry and walking single file down a near-silent hallway into the living room where a small child sat with his mother, shuffling matchbox cars across the dark wood floor.

The woman looks up after placing a finger to her lips and glancing down at the tousled mop of hair. “She’s in her bedroom.”

We have permission to enter. It is strange to be so near to a personal space of a stranger, etched with memories from decades, warm with the heartbeat of a still small figure dressed in a nightgown, and bathed with the tears of those who love her.

I can remember her face so clearly - resting on a white pillow, eyes closed, lips slightly parted, and breathing mildly labored.

Beginning to realize that in my 20^th year of life I have barely touched on what it means to know pain and loss, I stand by the bed of the dying for the first time in my life and my voice blends with the others in my group to sing words that become deeper and richer with every moment: 

Healer of my heart, Lover of my soul

Keeper of the stars, the earth, the sky – come and make me whole

Savior of this world, my voice praises You alone

Healer of my heart, Lover of my soul

I see the young boy propped against a window sill, staring into thin air and wiping his blurring eyes. I see the daughter of the dying sitting nearby, eyes never far from the still figure in the bed. And I cry with them.

“I will see you on the other side, Helen,” one leans over the bed, a catch in her voice. Eyelids flutter as she opens her eyes. She knows we are there.

I am crying for a stranger. And I love her though today was the first and would be the last I saw her.

……………

Tracing back the years, I leaf through the pages of my Bible to the beginning of time for our planet.

Lofty trees, branches bending with the weight of scented fruit shade the gentle form of a deer as she softly treads winding paths. Flowers dot a golden field nearby, and tall grass sways with the breath of the cool wind. Sturdy, but graceful vines grow upright, their trainable branches drooping with foliage and varied colors of fruit as the setting sun floods surrounding hills with orange glory.

I can see Him kneeling on a soft bed of moss, letting sweet water fresh from the river wash through His fingers and moisten the rich earth below.

This garden – it is for them. 

It is yet another token of His love, and meant to be their home for always. His thoughtful and purposeful heart made no mistake, and missed no opportunity to write beauty over the Eden landscape.

This home was made beautiful by the hand of God Himself. Holding unspoken dreams for the destiny of humanity in His heart, He welcomes man to the loveliness of this new earth.

And then a simple act of blatant disobedience blots over this beautiful dream in the heart of God. In humility and sadness the young couple take the last steps out of their garden home of innocence and joy. Adam turns to look back one last time as his eyes flood with blinding tears, shocked at the enormity of sin, the utter grief of death, and deep sorrow to leave his garden home.  

We can identify with Adam and Eve. We know what the ugliness of sin looks like. We have shed bitter tears, and experienced both pain and loss at some point in our lives. We beg of the Lord, “how long?” and urge Him to rescue us from the sorrow below.

But sometimes I believe we get so caught up in our grief that we neglect to consider the feelings of _His_ heart. What of this Creator Who tenderly formed mankind from the dust of the ground with His bare hands, and breathed into man's nostrils His very own breath?

He did not create us to know sin or the consequences of separation from Himself. Could His loss have been any less than that of His creation? What sort of sorrow did He feel in His heart when the time of the day came when He customarily walked and talked in the garden with Adam and Eve? Did He walk along its silent pathways still, grieving for a lost world? I wonder.

He created us to know only love, joy, and peace. He wanted our children to play in safety, love enduringly, and never know the pain of falling or thorns. He desired youth to find satisfaction through service and unselfishness, recognizing their worth in His eyes without ever watching them try to pick up the leftover pieces of their broken hearts. He designed the family to be united in love, unshakable in conviction, and never tears of parting or sharp words of anger. The ceaseless ages of eternity would roll past, and every day would reveal continual wonder and increased knowledge to children of the Heavenly Father.

We weren’t created to die. The Creator never wanted to see sad tears fall. (Yet I’m sure He cried before man ever did.) He did not purpose for us to feel one ounce of pain. (Though He felt every particle of it for us.) He didn’t breathe life into our systems for it to be snuffed out. (Yet He suffered death that we can live so that the grave can hold hope, not just bones.)

He may see fit to allow pain and sorrow. At times it may seem that He overlooks many a tearful moment marked with loss. We were never assured that we wouldn't have questions, but I can promise you this - He may not heal the body until resurrection day dawns, but He continues to be a healer of hearts.

And someday He will wipe away our tears forever.

To Know His Heart

As the seconds tick and the hours fly, another day of my life comes to a close and night settles over my Vermont hills. The crisp winds of a fall night whistle and strike chimes just outside of my door. As I recline on my bed the ticking of my clock and typing sounds from my computer keyboard hardly break the silence. I yearn to share a heart that is both an eternity away, and right at hand.

Through two recent and specific experiences, I was led to a place where I could identify with a fraction of this heart, when mine was touched and pierced too.

When small but eternally significant thoughts and ideas come to mind, they are often whispered by a heavenly messenger. The memory of a particular man who had been missing from church attendance for 2 ½ years became a burden on my heart, and with growing excitement I searched for his mailing address, petitioned church members to sign an expression of how much he was still missed and loved, and sent the card with a prayer.

Maybe Dennis would never respond, but maybe it would at least touch his heart. I might never see him again, but at least I could be assured that I reached out to the older man. The joy received from taking part in God’s work fully repays all effort, even if we see no results from this side of heaven.

On the following Sabbath from the piano bench, I saw him slip into a far corner of the sanctuary. His head turned, gazing at the people who had written to him in that single card, and as his eyes locked with theirs, he flashed a smile.

Oh joy, pure joy. After being away so long, he came back again. It would be impossible to hold back my smiles. Lord, is this mixture of excitement, anticipation, and happiness what You experience each day when one of Your children takes the road home? Heaven must be made of pure joy.”

My joy was overflowing.

 I savored the kinship I felt with His heart right then. We shared the same happiness, we loved the same soul. And it was difficult to imagine that while I was bursting with happiness, this was only a fraction of His when the created trusts the Creator.

More than two weeks ago on a beautiful Sabbath day, a precious little Siamese cat slipped by the front door and scampered across the thick grass of our lawn. The mysterious adventure of the outdoors drew her from the confinement of the house, and she played with the brisk and playful breeze.

 My family rushed off to church, and the womenfolk lingered long after potluck to fellowship with friends and share music together. Meanwhile, my dad and the boys enjoyed a quiet afternoon at home. Joseph was outdoors when he heard the sounds of a struggle in the woods, a cry – and then silence.

Our Precious was defenseless. She knew little of the hidden danger lurking among the shadows of her friendly world. Because she had wandered from safety, she became the prey.

 But even though we were sure she was gone, we still hoped and searched, calling her name in the silence. Tramping through briers and weeds in the darkness of the night, I called for a kitty that had a piece of my heart. The calls of my friends and family echoed across the cleared portion of our property as they tramped in tennis shoes and darted the flashlight beams through the forest.

Our group returned to the house, flooding with warmth and light, love and happiness, but I linger on the front porch. There is an emptiness now that nothing else can quite fill.

 It’s such a cold night out there, I shiver and wrap my arms around my shoulders as I stand alone, gazing at twinkling stars in light of the moon. The faint cry of the woodcock hovering over her nest in the woods, and low drone of weary grasshoppers, clinging to tall blades of grass blend with the whisper of the cool wind brushing my face.

 Why did it have to be Precious? Why did she ever slip out of our house and into the cool shadows of too often unforgiving nature? Couldn’t the fox have taken something less sweet and precious to me?

 Seemingly on the whisper of the wind, I hear, Sorrow with me. Feel my loss. And this is not even a fraction of the pain that hurts my heart when mankind that I love lets go of safety and breaks away from My strength to wander alone. So painfully often, they become prey to the enemy who drains them of breath and life. I feel loss because that wanderer – so sweet and precious to my heart - leaves a void that cannot be replaced. Although there is great joy in heaven’s courts, I still shed tears. Tears for those who made themselves lost to me by fleeing from safety to trust the enemy.

 We sorrow together, and His tears comfort me.

.........

Heaven’s courts are illuminated with brightness too intense for human eye. Mansions have been prepared, unsurpassed and unblemished in pure beauty for us. The song of angels perfumes the air with sweetness and joy as the repentant child, the wandering creation, returns to claim the presence of his Lord.

Heaven is made of pure joy, I exclaim in wonder.

 But then a strange silence covers the scores of heavenly beings hovering over the throne room. In a place where there should be only singing and laughter, there is breathed a sigh of deep and heavy sadness.

“Oh why, why did he let Me go?” I hear the tender cry from the Savior, as He traces the way of a wandering child. “My love is holding on, but it won’t keep him from danger when he walks in its path.”

 And then another mournful word. “She had no time for me this morning. Some of her actions today will ultimately effect ten other souls for eternity. If she only realized how thin of a thread she holds in connection to the divine…”

 Tears fall. “Oh Father, they are so sweet and precious to me. I sacrificed eternity for their sakes, but they refuse to give up the husks of a dark world for the riches of another.”

 I stand unmoved, shocked by the realization that my Savior sorrows still. Heaven is made of pure joy, but tears and grief are there - a constant reminder of what sin and separation cost.

I expected only rapture would be here, but what is this grief I see? And as I search my heart…could it be over me?

In the quietness of my bedroom, I look back and savor feeling His closeness through both joy and pain. Challenges and hardships have a new meaning now, for I am challenged to the core when I behold His loveliness, and find strength as I surrender my weakness. Through each test of faith, I am drawn deeper into a heart that has been touched by every sorrow, and hurt by every pain, but still loves to no end.