This year has been such a glorious year for our son Taylor's progress with autism and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. The previous year was devastating—full of meltdowns and aggression—but this year has been the calm after the storm.
Until this past week. In fact, I almost didn't attend Revive '13 as a result of this crisis.
While I had called on the grace of the Lord for as long as I could remember, I don't think I had understood that my Father in heaven actually feels my pain.
The day started normal but then turned suddenly awry. My teenage son wrote and handed me frantic notes that made no sense. Then, before I knew it, he was yanking me outside. Pushing. Pulling. Tugging. Running across people's yards. It seemed surreal, but I had no time to absorb what was happening—the situation was escalating so quickly.
My father was at our house during the entire episode. Although he had seen Taylor upset and witnessed a few skirmishes over the years, he'd never seen a meltdown.
My heart raced as I followed Taylor down the street. To give me strength, I kept glancing back at my seventy-three-year-old father in the driveway who was watching in dismay. Somehow in the chaos, I felt safe with him standing there like an anchor.
When we finally got back to the house, my dad's eyes welled with tears. His voice cracked, "Watching that was more than I can take." He was as heartsick as I was.
The next day, my heart reflected on what had happened. I came to realize my father in the driveway represented my Father in Heaven—my Anchor who keeps me steady just by being who He is.
But then I realized something powerful I'd missed in previous times of suffering. While I had called on the grace of the Lord for as long as I could remember, I don't think I had understood that my Father in heaven actually feels my pain.
Isaiah 53 tells me that Jesus, the One who bore my sin, is a "Man of Sorrows" acquainted with grief. My sadness is His sadness. My sorrow isn't something He merely hears about when my lips open in prayer. My Father in heaven feels my pain. My Savior came here to know this shattered human condition and die for my sin.
When crisis makes your tears fall, the Lord Jesus knows. He really knows.
What about you? Do you realize Jesus knows your pain? Don't think for a minute He's not looking. He knows each heartache before it breaks your heart. When crisis makes your tears fall, the Lord Jesus knows. He knows dear sister, He really knows.
There in the depths of my hardest day, where nothing can be understood, I will say to my heart, "Look unto God, for His glory's incredibly good."
When life seems to fail me . . . and dreams disappear, like a vapor that nobody knew, I will look to the skies, and His sovereign beauty, to praise what is holy and true.
When loss upon loss seems to stack high against me, I will still declare that I'm blessed, for a King laid aside the splendors of heaven, to save me and give me His rest.
When the tears on my pillow from the evening before, become salty streaks on my face, I will wake up again, to walk in His power, and welcome the sight of His grace.
©Sheila Gosney
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