There You'll Find Me

by Jenny B. Jones

God, why is turmoil following me like I’m in a bad soap opera?

Lord, You light my lamp; my God illuminates my darkness. I knew dark. Dark was the dreary sky outside the windows of this room. It was the shade of the cloud that followed me every minute of the day. It was that voice that whispered I was never going to get this song right. Never going to close up the canyon in my soul where a brother used to be.

She looked at the town as we walked by, her eyes heavy with fatigue. And an ache so deep, it didn’t have a name. I’d seen that look in my own mirror.

“You know, we’re surrounded by people, but it just feels so . . . lonely here.”

“God would want her to know she isn’t defined by her mistakes.”

“Maybe you should stop going by what you feel.” He opened my hand and pressed the flower in my grip. “And start going by what you know is truth.”

While it rains a lot, nothing can dim the shades of this town. Color is all around. I want to keep my eyes on the good. And not the dark clouds.

“Don’t make the mistakes I did. Don’t hang on to old hurts. You can spend your years blaming God, blaming other people, but in the end it was a choice. And I’ll die knowing I made the wrong one. Could’ve fixed it. And I didn’t.”

“You’re still convinced God doesn’t hear you?” “Would my life be such a mess if he did?” “If you’re doing it all your way, yes.”

To truly try means to accept God’s love, his healing, to accept the world can be ugly, but your heart doesn’t have to be. It takes courage, Finley the warrior. You haven’t held on to your anger and bitterness in search of healing, but as a banner of your hurt. Because it’s real and visible and strong,” she said. “But so is God’s love and so are those arms he’s holding out for you.”

Closing your heart to God and the rest of the world won’t fill those raw places. It just makes more room for Satan to settle in your heart. Makes his lies easier to believe—that you’re not worthy, that God doesn’t truly care.

“When it’s Satan, he leaves his calling card—destruction. That’s how you know it’s him.

Your anger isn’t keeping Will’s memory alive.”

When that husband treated you bad, when he couldn’t show you love, God had your heart right in his hand.”

We are more than conquerors through him that loved us.’”

That neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.’”