As we wrapping up falling in love with Jesus all over as autumn will fade and winter emerges, the beach is perfect because our weather was hot until the last couple of weeks. It is something to look forward to on the slow and lazy afternoons or in the bitter cold. It makes me want to take a walk there in the evening.
Truth is I have walked there many times, perhaps not on the shores of Galilee hand in hand with Jesus, as the wind whips His long dark hair and a beautiful smile crosses His face as He leans into it and clasps both my hands and draws me closer, but I have walked with Him. Through happiness, and sorrow, He was and is still my joy.
And we have all seen the Footprints In The Sand poem, I wrote my own a while back, probably some thirty years of more. What I didn’t know then as I embarked on a lifetime of faith is how many times, I would walk with Him, even envision Him with me, or most importantly not even really realize how much of the time how much of the time He was carrying me.
He carried me through a lot of physical pain, more than I care to admit. A lot of mental anguish, verbal abuse, jealousy. I was even told that once. I couldn’t imagine it. Jealous of me? Or jealous about Jesus? Why, others knew Him too? I admit being trusting and perhaps a bit naive, I wanted to believe Jesus would just change things for me. Oh, and He did. But people, He won’t change, they have to want to. He will not force them, they have a free will.
Old religious trappings, fear, oppression. Generations of self doubt, low expectations. No wonder, I was different. He carried me through the health challenges, the faith ones, and the overcoming fear ones. I have never walked alone, even if I had times I felt like it. The enemy would deceive in any way to get us to that place of doubt.
Looking back, I wonder a little how much I was actually walking or was He really carrying me. Were there times I was on His shoulders? Delighted at being more than a conqueror through Jesus who loved me or was it even more like that He carried me close to His heart or even as I slept after heartbreak or hurting?
The truth is we carry way more that we have to, we should just lay it at His feet and not pick it up. Why do I cry and break the alabaster box of oil? The costly oil of my mourning, I am not anointing Him for burial again, but He is anointing me continually with the beauty of His love, His peace and presence.
Why am I at His feet in tears and get back up and think I have to keep carrying a load that is as heavy as His cross. I hear people say to take it up and follow Him, that we are disciples. Yes, in a way. But He knew we could not bear what He could or else why even die. He knew we needed Him as Lord, and to carry us if necessary.
He carried us and all our crosses as were we crucified with Him. No wonder I love the one who loved me first. I will be proud and glad to walk with Him and now I can do that better, knowing He is there if I need Him to carry me. It is amazing, I wrote a poem in the 80’s called ” I Carried You ” and now here I am over thirty years later writing, He Carried Me. And He has.
I promised a blogger friend I would publish it. It appears I have misplaced it but I will find it. It is about knowing Jesus and I can remember some.
I walked alone along the beach, two sets of tracks, there no longer are.
” Lord, where are you? ” Is my desperate plea.
One set of prints, no longer two.
And He says to me, ” I carried you. ”
Adrianna Calvo / pexels