Trust is the Language of Heaven

I’m learning sometimes surgery is the only way to remove the things inhibiting us from deep and effective rest… the kind of rest that resets our mind and resettles our spirit. The kind that fuels the deeply and divinely placed dreams that we hope and pray for. 

And maybe monitors can alert us back to Jehovah Ralpha the same way minister’s can… 

Maybe the beeps are just the cadence of the songs being sung over us… “beep, beep, “Emmanuel, He is here. Beep beep, The One who wipes every tear. Beep beep, Abba, the promise holding Father.” 

And maybe nurses are angels in disguise, tending and serving us back to wholeness because God loves to use community to heal.

And maybe it will be the black coffee that’s served at dawn that convinces us that what seems dark is weaved with lightness when handed to Jesus.

And maybe that’s it? Maybe trust is the Love language of Heaven after all… And when the water should sweep us up and rivers of disappointment should swallow us whole, he makes a path and extends His spirit just to remind us that it’s our trust He is after, not a resume of miracles. 

And when the streams don’t go how we wanted them to go and we’re tempted to cope with the “I should have known” to make the hurt sting less, maybe we’ll look back and be reminded that the hands of Jesus are the safest place for unfulfilled dreams and lost hopes. 

And maybe that will be the moment that His nearness will outweigh the unanswered prayers and the stagnant dreams… because just when you thought your heart may break, you’ll be reminded His tender affection was all that you ever wanted in the first place.