Chosen

Broken is such a foreign thing to me. Strong was my normal growing up. I knew my problems were insignificant and quickly mastered the art of numbness. I learned to tune out my heart and listen to my head yelling, "retreat!" In the chaos around me I just needed a constant, and empty was as constant of a feeling as I could get. I knew that all I could do was be alright. 

Then I met someone who would change everything.

I had known Him my whole life, from a distance. Our paths crossed and we would hang out once in awhile among mutual friends. I never made the effort to talk to Him myself, or initiate any kind of contact.

But He sought me out. 

I ran. I retreated to every possible hiding spot I could find. He always found me, and I would run again.

I ran until I found myself in the middle of the desert. Weary with nowhere else to go. Exhausted and thirsty. I was so thirsty.

It was there that He had me to Himself. There, it was just me and Jesus. No distractions, no other voices competing for my attention. In the stillness, in the barren land. In a quiet, dry place, His voice was louder than the pain. His voice echoed in the openness. With no more barriers, no more places to hide, no more strength to run, He wooed me and drew me in. There, in the wilderness, He showed me what love is. And as the sun set with little reprieve from the heat, He taught me to dance under the stars. He brought me water from the rock.

His strong, tender voice, a voice that I had long learned to tune out, cut through the silence. 

“I choose you.” 

In the desert, you learn to hear His voice. The hours, days, even years when it feels like everything is falling apart. When you don’t think you could fall any further. In the quiet. Those are the moments He redeems. The moments in the trenches, when the gunshots are just an echo in your memory, are when you truly learn to hear. 

When you look back at those times, you’ll see that the desert was an invitation to know Him deeper. In the chaos of life, you once again long for those quiet, broken moments in the wilderness. Because it is there that you first felt seen. You felt completely known and hopelessly vulnerable. You had permission to just be. To cry and scream. To question. To let your mask shatter in the dirt. To fall completely apart, knowing He is there to bind up your wounds. 

And when you leave the wilderness, you’ve learned to recognize His still small voice above the world’s shouts. You know how to find stillness and rest in Him. You can walk with your head held high, knowing that the King of kings chose YOU. 

That is my heritage. He chose me and adopted me as His daughter. He looked straight at me, never looking through me, and declared me as His own. No longer do I have to hide.  

And that is your heritage. He’s chosen you. Let Him allure you in the wilderness. Fall at his feet in the desert and He will quench your thirst. No longer will you be called Deserted, or your land Desolate. But you will be called Hephzibah (my delight is in Her), for the LORD will take delight in you (Is 62:4).

He saw you in the orphanage, pointed at you and proclaimed, “You. You are mine. I choose you.” 

“I will be a Father to you, and you will be my sons and daughters” 2 Cor 6:18

Will you come to Him?

He’s waiting on you. And He’ll wait, as long as it takes.