Last week was hard on my spirit. Two very holy people whom I love, trust, and deeply admire seemed to deliberately tear me down and break my heart a bit – as humans often will. As a balm, I believe, I was given a dream. In it, I walked through a beautiful countryside on a breezy day. (Think Downton Abbey minus the drama.) I was greeted warmly by a dear, gentle man of God who led me into his manor.
“Come see what I’ve been doing for you,” he said. Inside, I travelled from room to room to discover artisans working carefully on items that were obviously being made with me in mind. In the first room was the same Victorian dollhouse my daddy had built for me when I was 10, but with wonderfully re-imagined, off-kilter windows and a glowing coat of paint. In the next room someone was crafting a breathtaking new Nativity Scene, made of shiny copper and tiny moving parts. The star was particularly fascinating. And so it went…. Room after room, artist after artist, gift after gift: all meant specifically for me.
And I was reminded – as we all need to be at times – that this is how God loves me. Personally. Deeply. With tenderness, whimsy, and incisive understanding. He proves it daily with real and abundant gifts: lessons, people, songs, talents, Scriptures, natural wonders, and events crafted specifically or re-imagined for me. And for you. And for those who cause us pain.
What, then, can truly tear us down and break us away from God’s love? Nothing. Zip. Zilch. Nada. Or, as St. Paul puts it: “… I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor present things, nor future things, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Romans 8:38-39