Forgive Yourself: Let God Heal The PastChikamu

What Your Heart Knows

Oh, darling, I know you want to touch Me—to reach out your hands and feel Me tangibly. Might I feel more real, then? Might I be more easily recognized?

Look again.

Look again.

Where is your restless heart? To what does it turn, if not to Me?

What can you see more tangibly that distracts you from Me, when all my creation calls out my name? What calls out something else? What does not cry out holy? What does not cry out these words: I have you. I want you. I rescue you. I redeem you. I claim you. I made you. I beautify you. I hung on a cross for you and faced death and won?

What tears you away? 

From what do you get your self-worth? How do you decide the value of a day? How do you choose what is yours to do?  What is your rhythm? How do you receive energy? How do you find rest?

Oh, girl, where do I fit in?

My daughter, I did not come to play second. I did not come to trick you, con you into loving Me. You only know who you are and what you’re worth through my love for you—my dying for you on the cross. I would do it again for you. 

I would, you know.

But here’s the thing: I did. I did. For you.

I do not ask you to love Me out of guilt, out of obligation. I give you a heart that knows its way to Me. It knows its true self. It knows its name. It knows its place. It knows by whom it was made. It knows the giver of all good things and how things began and how ending isn’t an option until the time is finished here.

I say ‘it is finished’, and the beginning began again. I called ‘Father, I commit my Spirit to thee’, and that Spirit is now yours. And your heart knows my Spirit. You know Me. My children know their name.

So touch these scars. Touch these hands. Let these fingers wrap around yours. My Holy Spirit—Me in you—holds on tight.

So, come on now, sweet one, you hold on tight, too. We’ve got things to do together.