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God's Front Door

God's Front Door: Private Conversations by Jill Briscoe. Included with the kind permission of the publishers - Monarch Books, Lion Hudson, UK

The Broken Wing

"He tends His flock like a shepherd; He gathers the lambs in His arms and carries them close to His heart."     Isaiah 40:11

Has someone hurt you? Rejected you, slandered you? Have you ever had an ache that won't go away? Where do you go to find help? Go to The Front Door - you won't be disappointed!

I hadn't noticed Him sitting there in the shade with a lamb in His arms. I went over to Him and sat down.

"Talk to me," He said.
"I'm hurt," I answered. "So hurt."
"I know," He said.
"When will it stop hurting?"
"When you walk in The Front Door," He said.
"Your Front Door?" I asked.
"Mine," He answered very quietly. "Talk to Me about the pain." It was then that I saw the lamb in His arms. I hadn't noticed that the creature had broken its leg. It looked quite bedraggled, limp and exhausted.

"I had to wait until he was spent and at the point of death," the Lamb Maker explained. "He had got himself up on a dangerous ledge, and every time I approached him he got agitated and nearly fell off. I had to wait until all his strength was gone. Then I knew he wouldn't struggle any more and I could rescue him."

"Maybe he didn't know it was You," I suggested.
"He knew," He responded.
He put the lamb down in the long grass to rest. I hadn't noticed the bird in His lap. It had a broken wing.

"There are so many things that are broken in the world," I said. The Bird Maker took hold of the little creature and it fluttered and squawked and tried to escape.

"She will have to lie still if she wants Me to mend her," He said.
"How silly the bird is," I murmured.
He looked at me. Just once. Then I knew I had been silly too.
"If I lie still in Your hands and stop squawking, will You heal my broken wing?" I whispered, not daring to look at Him.

There was silence. Then, "Will you lie still in My hands whether I heal you or not?" He asked me very gently.
"I'll try to," I said after a long pause.
Then, "Come here, little girl," He said, and I don't know how it happened but I was in His arms feeling the beat of His broken heart. I understood at last. Only someone with a broken heart would want to mend broken legs and wings.

He had had his heart broken so mine could be mended. And suddenly it didn't matter any more, about my wing. Lying there, I knew there was nowhere else I would rather be in the whole wide world than in His hands. In fact, it occurred to me that if my wing was mended I would fly away. Whatever would I do without His hands on my life? I wasn't sure I wanted that. "It doesn't matter dear Heart Maker," I said. "You decide."

Then I saw Him smile and suddenly I was as content with the hurt as without it. The sun went down on the day, and night came. I slept. He didn't, but then He who keeps Israel never does!

Lord, when I'm hurting it's so hard to talk to You.
Like a bird with a broken wing I fight and squawk.
Help me to remember that what is happening to me is no surprise to You.
Help me to believe You are the mender of everything.
May I lie still in Your hands till my spirit is healthy and whole.
And bring me to the point of leaving the healing to You in Your time, in Your way.
You decide.