This is the final part to a story about comfort.
:: the following contains triggering words for survivors of sexual abuse ::
And Jehovah Elohim formed Man,
dust of the ground,
and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life;
and Man became a living soul.
On the third night of my shame-induced captivity the Lord said within my spirit (now spent of all her tears):
“Take off your clothes.”
The words thundered in my ears, sounding from within me like a Warrior’s battle command. Preposterous, horrific, undeniable.
Take off your clothes, and be before me.
A battle waged. Like two forces colliding, good and evil, darkness and light suddenly struck head to head and I felt as if a thousand demons were screaming, “what have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? Get away! We know you are, the Holy One of God!”
Each piece of clothing bore the sudden weight of a thousand iron chains, physically heavy, hard to lift. All my strength and concentration bent toward the removal. This was now no mere clothing. I was peeling back layers of shame.
Wild banshee wails echoed off the fresh hollow of my heart. Louder, wilder, longer, and then –
All fell still.
There I was, before Him.
“Open the window.”
My whole being felt subdued, like a child after a soul-scrubbing cry. Secretly, with great privacy, I lifted the glass to a breeze that felt more like summer than winter. It whipped toward where I huddled. The blackness of the night matched the blackness in my room, and all was intensely silent.
The Wind came softly, gentle as a Lover, to my skin.
“I love you,” I heard the Spirit say.
A touch. The Wind, a hand: “I love you and I think you are beautiful.”
Images came to mind, silent as a slide show, image after image of abuse…loss…shame. To each image, the Wind gave answer.
“I love you and you are mine.” The Wind, physical, upon each scar.
“I love you and you are worthy of my love.” The Wind, an honoring caress.
“I love you and you are dearly worth any price I’d pay.” The Wind, Giving not Taking.
“I love you and you are lovely.” The Wind, delighting, singing.
“I love you. Your body is beautiful.” The Wind, rejoicing, exulting.
“I love you. YOU are beautiful.”
“I love you, and you are not too much.” The Wind, firm, assuring.
“I love you and I like who you are.” The Wind, comforting, full of life-giving power.
“I love you and you will be a delight to your husband.” The Wind, insistent and corrective.
“I love you and I restore to you what was taken.” The Wind, forgiving, setting free.
“I love you.” The Wind, gentle and kind.
“I love you. Do not be ashamed.”
And to every place that shame once lay, the Wind came. Upon every part of my being, from my innermost soul to my outermost extremities, He breathed His life.
Oh, Comfort. The word itself means to call by name into one’s presence, to come alongside, and be with.
And, Blessed. The word means to make large and long, to extend the full measure in order to match the need (and then, extend beyond).
Uniquely. Precisely. Wholly.
By God Himself.
This post is part of Survivor Songs, a 31-Day series. A full list of posts is found here.
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