Before dawn He awakens me. “Come, let me anoint you. The places of yesterday’s correction must be covered. We cannot allow the flies to come in.” I hasten to obey His direction, still driving the sleep from my eyes. He anoints me, covering those places left aching from the day before. When He is finished, He carefully takes me by the shoulders and directs me to face Him. Looking at me directly He says, “Now is time to look at that second root. Do not fall to this—be strong and hold on to Me. Do not let this stay attached to you.”
I feel a bit unsteady, off balance. It all seems to progress faster than I am ready for. But in obedience I turn once again to the source of the voices. The voice is still there, undiminished from the night before. ‘You are not wanted,’ it calls to me. I close my eyes to listen to it once more. And I see a picture from long ago.
I see my baby sister in my mother’s lap and I am pushed away. A desperate pain wells up in me. ‘Mommy does not want me! She does not want me…unless I can help!’ And I see it now. Here is the source of my drive to work, to be busy and useful. It is grounded in the hunger to be wanted.
Sobs well up in me as the pain of this image comes rushing to the surface. Burying my face in my hands I weep the tears pent up over a lifetime. A distant part of me realizes that He sits close to me, waiting patiently for me to release the anguish stored up for so long. As my weeping finally subsides, He moves in to comfort me.
“She doesn’t want me!” I sob into His shoulder, “She doesn’t….” the sorrow resurfaces full force. Again, He lets me spend the rush of tears, in His arms.
Softly, He whispers into my ear, “It is not truth.”
His words pierce my heart, bringing forth great, heaving sobs, so strong I can barely breathe. Not true! Not true! How can it be not true!
“It is not truth.” He whispers again.
He tells me it is not truth! If it is not, then what? It is all a lie? A lie I have taken in, I have believed all my life? How can this be a lie? I have never truly heard anything else. Gently He rocks me, tenderly soothing my deep agitation. As His comfort comes, I see what is needed.
‘I repent, Papa! I repent of believing this lie! Oh how I have all my life believed it! But You tell me it isn’t true. Yet I have believed it, built upon it, grounded myself in it! Oh, Papa, I am sorry! I repent!” Tears overwhelm me yet again.
Still, He holds me until my tears subside.
As I calm, He takes my hands in His. I see they are bruised and bleeding, damaged, hurt from the battles this lie has brought me and wrong service it has led me into. With great tenderness, He rubs His oil into my hands, making its soothing warmth felt deep into my joints.
He then gathers me into His lap once more. “Rest now. We will work on changing these structures more later.”
I could not argue with Him if I wanted to, I am so exhausted. I sleep again in His arms.