The Perfect Fit

Hope is that thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words and never stops... at all.

Emily Dickinson

Her bright, smiling face greeted us as she descended from the Greyhound's steps. Her right hand gripped her guitar case, in which was hidden the instrument that was dear to her heart and ours, as it had provided many moments of peace in a little country church, in the steady, green pines, of the south Georgia plains. Annie's hair was the same. Combed back, with tight curls pulled away from her long, slender face. Her gray wavy strands flowing neatly past her broad shoulders, her simple floral dress buttoning to her nape and flowing to her shins, and her shiny black oxfords made Annie the same gentle companion we had known twelve years before in our small, rustic pastorate.

Her visit to us in the north Georgia hills was a sweet surprise. A phone call a few days previously had announced her intended 300 mile venture to visit old friends. With joy, with heartfelt thanks for her kindness and motherly concern, we received Annie into our little ranch-style home, which was distanced from the road but in direct view of a Blue Ridge mountain range. Her face glowed with the delight of one much loved who always loved back with grace beyond what she received. The joy she brought us, the hugs with which she warmed us, and the tender words of blessing and truth Annie spoke to us brought present peace and hopeful hearts.

Annie's visit with us that weekend was God's good gift. A timely solution for a specific season of doubt and discouragement in the lives of a young couple, struggling with an arduous church, failing finances, and two flourishing sons, both troubled by our troubles. The times were lean, . . . heavy, . . . hazy,
. . . even wistful. My dear husband was tired from a weedy, thorny garden he did not plant, and I, . . . I was ill, despondent, discouraged, far from the wife and mother I wanted to be. I had allowed the unsavory weeds and sticky thorns to embitter my soul and prick my heart. I had allowed poor health to turn my bright heart into a misty harbor of doubt.

I had drunk from the well of Marah. And the Lord, in His divine providence, sent from Heaven, ordered a word to set me free. He wanted to reclaim a wayward daughter, who had fallen to the weight of despair and confusion. My sin? Failure to believe when I did not understand. A lack of hope in hopeless times. The choice of a stone heart. The willingness to be an empty vessel that had no courage, no warmth, no joy to offer my family or my church. No faithful prayers to pray to the faithful One.

Annie's sweet prayers and wise words lifted our spirits. We had a weekend of blessing, prayer, singing, rejoicing. My children even sang, praised, believed. As we took Annie to the bus station on Monday afternoon, my heart was so sad to see her leave, but I was much more distressed by my own cool spirit. I still struggled with such pain and arrogance. We pulled into the bus station and all got out of the car. My husband took care of her luggage. As she turned to bid me farewell, Annie spoke two words. Two short words that seemed so simple, yet they pierced my heart, struck my soul like a sword, and wrapped around me like a sweet vine. She grabbed my hands. "Hold on." "You, hold on."

And I held on. I clung. I wrapped my arms around the truth of God's word, and I did not let go. I cleaved to the Rock of my salvation, to my Redeemer, to my Best Friend. To El Shaddai, God Almighty. I clung to Him. I could not let go. Not ever again. Were there further times of discouragement? Yes. Did I ever again suffer an ounce of fear? Yes. Did I ever again feel like quitting, want to resign to an easier life? Oh, yes.

But, . . . .I clung. I hoped. I believed. I trusted. For I knew what was true. And what was true and what is true is that God sees, understands, cares, and He will not have His children lost in a pit of despair and disgrace, for He is mighty deliverer. The Psalmist said that He would have lost hope unless He had believed He would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living (Psalm 27:13).

The sin of unbelief is quite sly. It creeps around like a serpent, waiting to strike its intended. It patiently waits on the scent of hopelessness, and follows any bitter trail. But thanks be to our God, our Lord, our Savior, who lovingly guides us home, who through His tender mercy, leads us back to His safe haven.

Dear friends in Christ, He loves you today. Cast all your cares on Him because He cares for you. Bow before the King of Kings and Lord of Lords. Believe. Trust. Pray. Seek. Allow Christ to bring His sweet healing waters to you and give you a hope that will never fade.

May His everlasting love go with you. May the Lord's strength give your weakness perfection. May His peace be your beginning of hope. Hope that is new. Hope that is pure. A hope that is a perfect fit for your present need.

My family is taking a brief trip to see relatives, so I will be scarce for a few days. I look forward to catching up when I return. I hope and pray each one of you will be filled with hope and encouragement as you travel toward the weekend. Your faith and courage are a great strength to me, and I so cherish your comments. Truly, I have learned so much from your testimonies of love and belief in our Lord Jesus Christ. Many blessings to all.