"Grasp my hand." A faint call from across the universe. I step closer, incline my ear. "You are not alone. Take my hand." I reach out and the distance seems unreachable, but you are infinite and able to reach me before I fall completely in the dust of despair.
You grasp my shoulders in an embrace, steadying me on the path. You dust me off, offering a drink of Living Water from a well I did not see through my tears. You are the God who sees me, who sees ahead and has seen the wilderness before.
You were here, yourself, a long time ago, wandering and wondering and waiting. Tested and tried. Weary and worn. Hungering for bread. Thirsting for water. Training for the Cross.
You grasp it all. You get my despair. You were tempted like me, yet without turning your back on the Father or grumbling against His intention for Your life. You took hold of what I can never totally comprehend. You clung to the goodness of your loving Father all the way through the sweat and blood and pain, enduring it all. Grasping for the JOY set before time, the JOY of seeing and providing for the great hunger and thirst left from the scars of Eden.
I get glimpses and every once in a wilderness, grasp how wide and how long and how high and how deep is this LOVE.
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