What God Will Do To Remind Us We’re Loved

A week ago {Thursday evening to be exact}, I uttered a desperate plea: God, you’ve not spoken in so long. I need to hear your voice. It was one of those in-the-moment, two-sentence prayers. Nothing more. I went to bed with no expectations.

My friend often says, Be careful what you ask for; God just might answer in the way you hoped.

I woke up Friday morning a little later than usual. School was on a two-hour delay due to the dusting of snow we’d received on Thursday. {Yep, I live in the deep south where grocery stores run out bread and milk at the hint of a snowflake.} Instead of tackling my normal routine of getting the girls out of bed, and cooking breakfast, I made my favorite Butterscotch-Toffee coffee and sat down with my laptop. I checked my email and was overwhelmed by what I found in my inbox.

First, there was a lengthy note of encouragement on my blog entry Toxic Me from a new commenter. I had been very apprehensive about posting that particular entry because I didn’t know how people would respond. To read how someone else felt like God might be calling her to put away the books and Bible studies to spend time with Him was a relief to me. I didn’t discount the comment as a coincidence.

Further scrolling through my inbox led me to a message that even a week later still leaves me dumbfounded. I have no doubt that this particular email, and the communication that has stemmed from it, is an answer to my little, two-sentence prayer.

God used my tiny, little piece of the blogosphere to bring into my life a complete stranger who offers kind, compassionate, loving words of wisdom. To be quite honest, this person isn’t necessarily saying anything new or that I haven’t previously heard. In fact, the messages echo many of the conversations I’ve recently had with my counselor and friends. I think what overwhelms me the most is that a person who lives several states away cares enough and is sensitive enough to Holy Spirit to allow Him to speak through an email conversation.

I’m intentionally being vague because, as I said yesterday, I want to treasure and ponder the way Jesus reveals Himself to me. But I do want to share one simple line from one of the emails I received just yesterday: You are loved, Rebekah.

My husband tells me every day that he loves me. When preparing to hang up the phone from talking with my sister, we usually end with I love you. My counselor and friends often remind me how much God loves me. I think I’m often numb to those words.

But that one line in that email stuck in my brain yesterday, and wouldn’t let go. As I’ve already written about, it’s been an extremely difficult, dark week. Yesterday started out as no exception. But those words just wouldn’t go away.

Yesterday, I did something I never do. I packed a bag with my iPad, my journal, my notebook, my Bible, and my reading glasses {ugh}, stopped by Starbucks for coffee, and headed to the local state park. I drove around until I found a spot I liked…an open area right in front of the lake. I sat in my car, music softly playing, and re-read the email conversation. It ended with that one line.

I grabbed my pen and notebook, and began to write. I thought about what people feel when they are numb to love. I wrote about the still, dark hours; the tears we can no longer cry; the hopelessness; the fear; the wasted chances…and how even in the midst of all that desperation, we are still loved just as we are. And somehow, through that time spent writing about love, I found relief. I found some light in the darkness, and some of the weight was lifted from my shoulders.

In my eyes, God has gone to great measures this week to let me know how much He loves me. Yes, the cross should be proof enough; but I think for those of us who have grown up in church, the cross can become just a familiar part of Bible stories. I realize how crude that sounds, but for me, it’s sadly true. It’s taken reading You are loved, Rebekah to bring to my remembrance how desperately He loves me. While I still struggle to accept that love, I am keenly aware of it now.

I want to leave you with one last thought: You are loved.