You Are Welcome Here

 

“Holy Spirit You are welcome here,

Come flood this place and fill the atmosphere.

Your glory God is what our hearts long for, 

To be overcome by Your presence, Lord.”

If I wouldn’t have been driving, this song would have brought me to my knees today. But the tears were flowing anyway.

Another day, another email, another call.

His spirit breaking, I as a witness.

Helpless it seems.

In the middle of my pain, He met me there.

Has that ever happened to you? Where you feel overcome with His love and faithfulness…even though you feel like the world may be crashing down around you?

I drove to pick up my child. I could feel the hurt in his heart several miles away. He is broken. As we all are. What do we do with that pain? Use it for something greater, a purpose. But at 13, how do you know that or do that? Every day is just one step into coping, after another. Two days in a row of more emails and calls about his shortcomings. I acknowledge and know what his struggles are. But it’s as if he’s on the under side of a magnifying glass with a sun beam shining through it. The blinding heat of it all penetrating his shell, like he’s burning from the inside out.

What now? When the expectation is he fit in a box of compliance and obedience, that he follow the rules even when they don’t make sense?

The beautiful call a couple weeks ago from the teacher that sees him and his spirit and the goodness of it all, now a small blip on the radar. Slightly washed out from the drama of the last two days.

Some days it’s hard not to feel like they come after him. Most days it feels like a miracle he makes it through.

His face red and splotchy. Trying to be tough and keep the feelings from rolling down from the corners of his eyes. Fear of disapproval. Hopelessness consuming his soul as he thinks no one believes in him as he is nor that he will ever be capable of more.

How does one fix that?

I envision walking into the school, my pace quickening as I approach the door. He is waiting and I take him into my arms, holding on tight, as if the longer I hold, the more the pain will melt away. Just like when he was two years old and hurting.

But it’s middle school. And that won’t work.

He can’t make eye contact with me. The shame rising, silencing him. Looking down at his hands, fidgeting them. Anything to make the pain go away. After exchanges with administration, we walk out of the school.

I can sense and then see the tears brimming. His face forced on holding them back. Trying to shield the pain.

I put my arm around him. Tell him I love him. That it’s going to be okay. We will make it through the storm. I say it. Hoping I too will believe it. Sometimes it feels doubtful. Sometimes the path unclear and muddled with obstacles. More than one should have in 13 short years on this Earth.

I glance at my watch, knowing in 30 short minutes I have to leave for the airport. In 30 short minutes I have to say goodbye. In 30 short minutes I have to leave the room, leave his side. In 30 short minutes I will not be able to look into his blue eyes and make sure he is well. Hurt lives there too. But somehow, being able to look right into the wells of it helps me feel I have some semblance of control. But I don’t. And this is when the lyrics of Hillsong UNITED’s song Oceans (Where Feet May Fail) repeat in my head. Over and over.

“Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders

Let me walk upon the waters

Wherever You would call me

Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander

And my faith will be made stronger

In the presence of my Savior”

Two songs. One message.

Welcome the Holy Spirit, and let it lead you without borders. Trust in His love and know your faith will be made stronger in His presence.

I lay the pain to rest. I turn it over to him. Letting it go is hard. But necessary. He will hold my heart and my son’s in His hands. He will keep us safe. And He will heal our brokenness.

He is closer than we know.

Jesus, you are welcome here.