All streams flow into the sea, yet the sea is never full.

Steadfast love and truth and faithfulness meet together;
Righteousness and peace kiss each other. Psalm 85:10

Teach me some melodious sonnet, sung by flaming tongues above

Praise the mount I'm fixed upon it, mount of Thy redeeming love

But if we are absolutely grounded in the absolute love of God that protects us from nothing, even as it sustains us in all things, it grounds us to face all things with courage and tenderness. –James Finley

God does not protect us from pain nor brokenness nor loss. 

Flames nor bullets nor torrents nor tyrants.

And man, life is hard. And I just don’t get it a bunch of the time. But neither did Solomon.

And I set my mind to seek and explore by wisdom concerning all that has been done under heaven. It is a grievous task which God has given to the sons of men to be afflicted with.

And when we pray, “Jesus, help us to have just a really good nice day today,” that is not from Him nor His heart.

However He does promise to sustain us.

That we may face today’s pain with courage.

And our brokenness helps us to be tenderhearted.

As He is tenderhearted, knowing that we are but dust.

All this pain
I wonder if I’ll even find my way
I wonder if my life could really change at all
All this earth
Could all that is lost ever be found
Could a garden come up from this ground at all

You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of the dust
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of us

All around
Hope is springing up from this old ground
Out of chaos life is being found in You

May I walk in Your courage and tenderness today.

And there's even one who runs across the grass just to give me a huge hug every afternoon

I shall be very happy to make my weakness my special boast that the power of Christ may stay over me. 2 Corinthians 12:9

One of the great stack of books at my elbow is Brennan Manning’s Abba’s Child. And that Benning is a great little reader and gatherer of well-told stories. One is Thornton Wilder’s play, “The Angel Who Troubled the Waters,” based on the pool of Bethsaida. And the angel spoke to a doctor battling depression, who longed to be healed. But the angel speaks, “Without your wounds, where would your power be? In Love’s service, only wounded soldiers can serve. Physician, step back. This moment is not for you.”

And wounds result in tenderness, and thus I am grateful. Because each day I wade through the welling-up tenderness for each of those young souls in my care. The young man painstakingly copying the assignment into his book. The girl rushing off to the bathroom with thick mascara running down her face. Another slipping her phone under the edge of her skirt. Even, or especially, the one slouching in the back with his feet up on the desk. Because while he was still a long ways off, the father threw off his cloak and ran to his son and embraced him.

So you can love the least of these, even Me

He will tend His flock like a shepherd;

He will gather the lambs in his arms;

He will carry them in His bosom,

and gently lead those that are with young.  Isaiah 40:11

Surely tend and tenderness come from the same root word.  And as of late, I am struck by His tenderness for each of us, His beloved sheep.  Each of us is wounded and aching, longing to be swept up into His bosom.  

Last night I watched The Way, the Emilio Estevez movie with Martin Sheen.  (Huh, I didn’t realize that they were father/son in real life, which adds another layer to the movie, that was dedicated to the grandfather.)  The chatting led to a conversation about metaphors, but there it stopped, due to weariness of mind and body.  

But yes, the ultimate metaphor.  The road of life.  Each of us on a pilgrimage of sorts, with our assorted burdens, yearning to be set free from that which binds us.  Most of us, me for instance, pretty much set our jaw and trudge as quickly as our blistered feet can carry us.  

And each so beloved.  Cameron touched on this yesterday during worship.  The need to truly believe and accept His love before we move forward to live, to love others, to serve.  

We don’t quite believe it.  We each feel deep down that we need to carry our pebble, tucked into our pocket, to pile beneath the cross, to tip the balance in our favor.  

But that is a lie.  He declared on the cross, “It is finished.”  There is nothing more to be done.  

And thus I can stop.  Put down my pebbles, the ones I throw at other sheep when I am not stacking them up in tidy heaps to prove to myself and the other pilgrims that I am worthy.  Allow Him to scoop me into His arms.  And pour oil over my wounds.  And rest in His love.