Thursday, October 6, 2011

Me. Today. I look in the mirror

"He hath sent me to bind up the broken-hearted." Some hearts want more than words. The choicest consolations that can be conveyed in human speech will not reach their case; are deep the wounds of their hearts, they are not flesh cuts, but horrible gashes which lay bare the bone, and threaten ere long to kill unless they be skilfully closed. It is, therefore, a great joy to know that the generous friend who, in the text, promises to deal with the sorrowing, is fully competent to meet the most frightful cases. Jehovah Rophi is the name of Jesus of Nazareth; he is in his own person the Lord that healeth us. He is the beloved physician of men's souls. "By his stripes we are healed." Himself took our infirmities, and bare our sicknesses, and he is able now with a word to heal all our diseases, whatever they may be. Joy to you, ye sons of mourning; congratulation to you, ye daughters of despondency: he who comes to comfort you can not only preach with his tongue, but he can bind up with his hand. "He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds. He telleth the number of the stars; he calleth them all by their names."
(C. H. SPURGEON- notes from one of his sermons)

I sit in front of the mirror with tear stained cheeks.

I don't know who I am at times or what I look like.

It's true.

I know many women struggle with who they are. I don't mean identity crises. I mean insecurity complex. No matter what we've accomplished in life, most women if honest, have way too many things they don't like about themselves.

I lost myself over the years. I lost who I was in Christ. I gave up using the natural gifts the Lord gave me.

I'm OK with me but often loose sight of what is important.

I am a child of God. Period.

I look in the mirror at times and am disappointed. Fragmented.

Then I hear that sweet, soft voice that says, "you're beautiful and you're mine."

It is the voice of my Saviour.

Beauty is fleeting. Health is sacred. We never know when our bodies will fail us.

But our "soul health" is everlasting.

"To appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he might be glorified."—Isaiah 61:3.

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