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Hidden in the shadows of life is the me you don’t even know. The timid part of my heart unseen by most. In this particular moment of time what you see is but a small corner piece of the puzzle. A snapshot of the event called life.
The one page of my story. Seventy five words of the novel. A whisper of time. The first few chapters of my story is missing which leaves the page you’re reading without context.
You cannot understand me. Why. Would I do such things. Think like that. Make those mistakes. Say all the wrong stuff. At all the wrong times.
Underneath the surface of this page is an entire story that pieces together this moment. The one you’re in. I hope it’s a good chapter. But it might not be. The next one would have been better.
Here I am, under the surface, with a lot of luggage. Some call it baggage. I call it luggage. Sounds better. Baggage in my mind looks like a few trash bags of stuff. Luggage, however, leaves me with a vision of designer suitcases carrying around my stuff in style. And I’m a stylish girl. Well, sometimes.
What you do not see in the luggage are the burdens, hurt, shame, guilt, heartache, or doubt packed away, along for the journey of life. This moment is but a moment. A glimpse of time with a lot of before and a lot yet to come.
All the ache of life silently worn is tucked away neatly inside the luggage only to be taken out periodically as I drift from destination to destination until reaching the finish line. Every once in a while I forget I packed something until I find it unexpectedly as I dig for something else. Yet, there it is. At times it’s an old familiar item fondly cherished. Other times it’s an old worn out article I thought I got rid of but here it is, again. Those are the things of life I hate to discover.
It even catches me by surprise.
There is but one. One who knows my inner most thoughts. One who holds the key to my heart in the palm of his hand. Only one who has seen every step I would take before a single day had passed. Just one that calls me by His name. One and one alone that knows the me nobody else has ever seen, including myself. One who knows everything there was, is, and ever will be to know about me. Just. One.
There is but one who knows me, his name, Jesus.
He hung on the cross with me on his mind. He places his hand of blessing upon my head. He knit me together in my mother’s womb as his precious thoughts of me outnumber the grains of sand. He, the One, who calls every star by name, knows my name.
Friend, in this big dark lonely world, it is easy to feel passed by. Easy to feel all alone. Easy to look around and think, you don’t even know me. Easy to hurt so deep your breath is effort far beyond reasonable expectations. Yet, there is One, who knows your name, loves beyond measure, gives mercy anew each day, and graciously waits for you to answer His call. There is One. His name is Jesus. Call on him today. Let him heal you.
“O Lord, you have examined my heart and know everything about me.
Even there your hand will guide me, and your strength will support me.
You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body and knit me together in my mother’s womb. Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex! Your workmanship is marvelous—how well I know it. You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion, as I was woven together in the dark of the womb. You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed. How precious are your thoughts about me, O God. They cannot be numbered! I can’t even count them; they outnumber the grains of sand! And when I wake up, you are still with me!”
Psalm 139:1, 10, 13-18 NLT
You, know me, Jesus.
Bobbie