Remember that you were slaves in Egypt and the LORD your God redeemed you from there. Deuteronomy 24:18 NIV
I sit in my workroom on Good Friday and look at the dogwoods outside my window, their “blood-stained”, four-petaled blossoms reminders of the cross. When I need to remember what my God has paid for me, I think back to Calvary, to Gethsemane. I recall scenes from The Passion of the Christ, and see a small portion of what He went through for me. Often, even this isn’t enough to touch my fickle and distracted human heart.
But sometimes when I can’t quite manage the Redeemer’s perspective, I can look back at my own land of slavery and manage the perspective of the redeemed.
I’m from a background of abuse and belittlement. Even though He has healed those wounds, I can fast-forward to what my life would have been like without Him: a downward spiral to an early death from exhaustion, if not from human hands, then an unwelcome eternity. I can rewind to distant lonely memories and appreciate my adoption into His own family.
Where no one could accept me for who I was, my Redeemer looks into my soul as His voice drowns out those ghosts of the past. “I don’t make junk. I made you because I want you, just the way I made you.”
Where others used me, He gives me fulfilling purpose.
Where my earthly father’s protection failed, no one can snatch me from my Heavenly Father’s mighty hand.
Where my mother pushed and manipulated, He invites, and waits. Where her hands were harsh and impatient, His touch is unspeakably tender. Where she named me stupid, He gives wisdom simply for the asking.
Where my ex-husband shouted that he allowed me to wear an old coat he hated so he could look at it and hate me, too, Jesus dresses me in His own righteousness and tells me of His love.
Where my ex- held a knife to my throat and snarled, “I’d do it but you ain’t worth killin'”, He took my nails, my cross, and whispered, “You’re worth dying for.”
Thank You for healing me, Avi. And thank You for leaving me these memories to remind me of what life was like without You. When today feels too heavy, never let me forget my Egypt, never let me be tempted to go back. In Your holy name, Amen.