Where my Savior lives
No longer in a place of doubt
But the home with no roof, the tomb with no door
I want to be in His arms
Not because He is all powerful
Not because He did something magical
- and everybody knows it -
But because He is the God of calmed tumult,
Of everybody fed, of breakthrough dawn in a candlelight vigil
I want Him because He is good
I want Him because He can be trusted
He is like no one else because He is the great I Am
He will never give up on me or stop looking
He is the stamp that validates me, sealed me long ago
In His covenant
His everlasting love
He is forgiveness, wonder, acceptance
I want to be where my savior lives, in that tabernacle I can wrap an arm around and put lips to,
at that conference where voices praise Him as one, in that retreat meeting where a team so intimately knows one another that inside jokes make up the entire conversation. That parish mass where the sick child everyone prayed for is raised up and everyone inspired by a lingering phrase in their ears, on their lips,
Get out of the way
And give her something to eat
I want to build a tent where I find Him and never leave
But that's not what He wants for me.
I want to be where my Savior is
And He is in my heart
So I have to want to be me
In order to be where He is
In order to be in His happiness for me, His holy and perfect will for me
His perfection is hidden in my faults
His flawlessness best visible when I believe
Him, Risen, in spite, because of, where I have been.
Our fasting showed people He is here. His suffering that He cares. This ache is wretched most when we have plundered, and found Him lacking, our hearts still wanting. Tearing apart the world to find that last clue, the invisible key, and coming to the realization in a dark cave that He is Lord. He is keeper of my heart. He has been here all along. He was standing, right behind you, waiting like a lover, I Am Here. Here I Am.
This is what He wants for me. God of darkest nights before the dawn. Sparkling sunlight through broken arms. Fallen leaves swimming in a black lagoon. Bread, taken, blessed, broken, shared. That glimmer of an instant, a shimmering moment of seeing Him clearly like a glimpse through the mirror instead of out the window.
This is what He wants for me. When I believe that no matter where I am, my Savior lives
So long as I can see
Him in me.
That Easter Morning lives in me no matter how black the Friday.
Hang in there, is His love letter to me. So much can change in three days, three weeks, three years.
Trust the process and may your life show that you - You can see. You believe.
So the Savior lives in you, too.
You are Bethany, Galilee, Canaan, Golgotha.
You are where the Savior raised you, fed you, led you, bled for you.
His touch once is His touch forever.
His healing once is His Resurrection forever.
Why do you look for Him among the dead?
He is not here.
He is forever in your heart.