In the darkness that engulfed my soul and spirit, I forced myself to read God’s Word. The exuberance that once flowed at the mere mention of the name of Jesus–Gone. The struggle ensued. The doubts waged on.
Focus. Find the truth. See the fulfillment of the promises. The Old foretold the New. And the New in Jesus completed the Old. I squeezed these truths between the prison bars that held my mind captive. Oh! How I longed to feel the joy from which my faith had sprung.
“Faith is not a feeling,” the tender words whispered by My loving Father. How could I go on without feeling? But settled in my heart, I knew that Faith was a Choice.
Released for the moment from the strain, the gentle breeze of the Spirit refreshed this weary soul.
Somehow, my hands found their way to Exodux 34, verses 5, 6, and part of 7:
“Then the Lord came down in the cloud and stood there with him and proclaimed his name, the Lord. And he passed in front of Moses, proclaiming, “The Lord, the Lord, the compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness, maintaining love to thousands, and forgiving wickedness, rebellion and sin.” (NIV)
Compassionate caught my eye. Feeling sympathy for one, I thought. Just not enough. I grabbed the dictionary. Revelation in this simple book of definitions. But, Webster was a Christian. Defined: “sympathetic consciousness of others’ distress TOGETHER with a desire to alleviate it.”
Compassion became my hope, my eyes into the Father’s heart. He not only knew how I felt. He not only felt sorrow for my condition. But he experienced my distress. He had a desire to take it away. And He had the power to do it.
Peace to pull me from the depths.
How have you experienced the Father’s compassion?
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