nor fruit be on the vines…
the Lord is my strength; he makes my feet
like the deer’s he makes me tread
on my high places.
Habakkuk 3:17a, 19b
Seventy-eight years after it happened, I see the evidence of a family losing everything. Standing in the museum, concentrating on the black and white matte photo before me, I can almost hear the wail of the wind as it blows away the top soil. For months the clouds had refused to relinquish any water. Now there is only howling, dusty, robbing wind.
Wailing winds have frequently stripped me bare leaving my soul hungry and thirsty. It is difficult during these times to see any bits of fuzzy new growth. But my desire is to learn how to live in this moment and find my joy in the God who knows when I have done a face plant in the sand.
His joy doesn’t come in seeing me face down. It’s his creation, me, looking into his face that he longs to see. So, he lifts my head each day and soon I get a peek of higher ground. And before I know it, the day comes when I am able to stand and begin walking.
The Lord is my strength. And when I have climbed, slowly and cautiously at first, my calves and thighs increase in strength and I find I am able to leap and jump over rocks. Reaching the top I scan the horizon and am shocked at how far God has brought me.
Jesus, the winds have blown it all away.
I don’t even have enough strength to stand up.
But, I believe you have all the muscle
I need and that soon
my view will be from the summit.