She said I could share.
We have been working together for awhile.
Typically we find the Lord as she focuses on the garden of her heart.
Sometimes he holds her there while she weeps.
Sometimes he breathes on her to refresh her.
Sometimes he comes and releases a supernatural peace.
It is always beautiful.
When we sat together last week, it was different.
He didn’t wait for her to settle into focusing on her garden.
Almost as soon as she sat down, a garden appeared.
It was not hers, though.
It was his.
The garden where he spent time, right before his death.
The place where he asked his dad, if he would take the cup from him.
She knew it was his garden.
He invited her in.
She went, cautiously.
It was new. She was uncertain.
And then he asked.
He asked her if she would be willing.
To share some of his pain.
He asked if she would be willing to share the pain of his heart in the garden.
My heart ached for her.
She knows so much pain already.
A thought came to me.
Lord if you are asking her to share your pain, will you show her the joy set before her, so she can endure?
I have seen him do this from time to time.
Sometimes he will show a person the Bride.
She is why I went, she is why I keep going. She was the hope in me, and how I endured.
Sometimes he will show a person their own face.
It was you that I saw. I looked and your face was there. And my love for you sustained me as I walked through the pain.
For her, this time, he said something I have not heard before.
It was thoughts of my dad, he told her.
I knew I would soon be with him again.
That thought strengthened me.
I know for him, it was all of that and more. Yet he always seems to know what joy each person needs set before them to endure.
He always makes it so incredibly personal.
The thought, of Jesus looking forward to seeing his dad, brought strength to her. It enabled her to say yes. yes to sharing his heart.
Not because she likes pain. But because she loves him more than she fears her pain.
It is watching the overcoming spirit have its way again.
It is the victory that causes death to lose its sting.
It is the eternality having life in the temporal, and weighing more.
Some days I think I have the best job in the world, to see this stuff.
Surely he makes everything beautiful in its time.