There’s a jellyfish on my back today. And its tentacles wrap around my throat and into my eyes and ears. I curl up in my ultra-soft blue and white polka-dot bathrobe, but it turns to sand paper on my skin, so I snatch it off and throw it’s warmth into a heap on the floor.
It’s September. These viruses are supposed to wait until it’s cold outside, so cocoa and bathrobes are welcome friends, not prickly enemies.
A few moments ago I stood in my bathroom, foggy from the shower, and asked Jesus for healing. Graciously, He reminded me of Himself. My next thoughts were that I could not begin to imagine how His body must have felt as He was beat beyond recognition, hungry, bruised, had razor thorns jammed above his eyebrows, iron spikes holding him to His death, every bone disconnected from its neighbor, was thirsty, and alone. In this moment I want to crawl out of my skin and come back to it later. He allowed the iron spikes of my hatred and rejection to hold Him to his Father’s will of love.
In Hawaii I met a beautiful sister who had faced beating, strangling and death by bombing from the hands of her closest family and friends. The light in her eyes was captivating as she told of answering her accusers with sweet words of loyalty to her Jesus, not herself. Suffering has made her the most joyful and beautiful person I know.
I think I am healed, far beyond what I can think or imagine.
Isaiah 53: 5
But he was wounded for our transgressions;
he was crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace,
and with his stripes we are healed.
Wretched (one) that I am!
Who will deliver me from this body of death?
Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!