When life’s not worth living, “He knows”

Today, I feel led to slip in a quiet word for someone in particular. I don’t know your name. I don’t know where you’re at. But He does, and He wants me to give you this message–He knows.

Those two words. Just this…that He knows.

If you are flying high in His sky, borne aloft on eagle’s wings, this word is not for you. Not now. You are soaring in Him. His winds lift you up. You’re a flier.

No, this word is for the earthbound traveler, the one in the furnace. The one whose path’s rough and dangerous. Who’s not flying.

This is for the woman who’s waited so long. The one who has prayed without ceasing. It’s for the man who’s plans have all come to naught. The one whose strength has gone missing. Hope’s fled.

As our pastor says, “There are days when you get so low, you just kinda think it’d be sorta nice if you didn’t wake up in the morning.”

I remember one burning, hot day, a day of tumult and blackness when I shouted it up at the sky. “If this is all there is, it’s not worth it. Roll me over right here in this ditch because I can’t live in this place any more.”

And I meant it.

If this is you, then I’d like to tell you what I’m beginning to see. I’m starting to see His humanity.

When I took all my feelings, my despair and frustration to Jesus, this is what He said. “Don’t you think that I felt it, too? Don’t you think there were days when I said to Papa, ‘It’s so hard down here. I’d really like to come back and live with you up there?’”

I was listening, ears open, sight clearing.

“After all.” This is my Friend, sticking closer than any brother. “I’d been up there, and I knew what it was like, what I was missing.”

For the first time, dear friend, I began to see that Jesus truly did know how it feels to be us. That He really does know that it’s hard. He was tempted.

I saw that rejection, He’d been hurt by that, too. For that pain had come lancing on spear’s point.

He’d been tempted to hate when folks mocked all accusing. When they doubted and wouldn’t believe Him.

“I knew the whole time,” it seemed that He said, “I knew the whole time how it ended.” Murdered by those He’d come to save.

Jesus knows.

I find great consolation in this glimpse of His humanity, and I’m looking at Him, His example. I see His reliance on His Papa Beloved. I see His earnest submission.

Always living in Him. Always walking in Him. Ever praying and listening and breathing. In Papa.

He took it to Papa Who filled Him back up. Gave Him power and strength and encouragement. He finished the work Papa had given Him to do, and then, one day, He went Home.

To be with Papa.

That’s you, and that’s me. That is us. Some sweet day.