The God Who Sees {Guest Post :: Katy}

Meet sweet Katy. Yes. I MUST say "sweet" as I introduce her because that is how I think of her whenever I read her words. Her heart pops off of the screen EVERY. TIME. She is a masters-learnin', Africa-yearnin', words-lovin', soul-searchin', raw, honest soul. She blogs at her own personal space, B'ahava, which means "with love." When you visit her blog, I know that you will be as captivated with her tender transparency as I am. So without further ado....here's Katy.

The God Who Sees

He will make her deserts like Eden...

joy and gladness will be found in her.

Isaiah 51:3

I stare at this verse and wonder what wondrous work God will do to turn my desert and wilderness places into places like Eden. Eden conjures up images of a beautiful, perfect, and lovely place. A place where there are no tears, no mourning, no hurt, no fear, and certainly no heartache. Eden--where I can walk hand in hand with my Savior who loves me, likes me, and delights in me. My Beloved who has eyes only for me. Jealousy banished. Envy out the door. Anger not in sight.

Just love.

Love pouring out the windows and through the doors into my soul. Love that captures me and screams My heart has heard you say, "Come and talk with me," and my heart responds, "Lord, I am coming!" (Ps. 27:8). I am coming. I am coming to make an Ebenezer. I am coming to declare the Lord is GOOD. I am coming to find my refuge and hiding place. I am coming to carve out a place called Eden where I can rest. I am like Hagar desperate in the desert waiting to call her Lord El Roi—the God who sees me.

In the midst, I wait. Oftentimes, impatiently. I wonder why my cacti bristle instead of turn into works of art. I scratch my head wondering why my heart tugs with questions about the discrepancies between what I’ve asked for and what I’ve been given. I’m the little girl who asked for a pony and received a stuffed animal and who is trying to be thankful, but is looking a little skeptical and disappointed. All the while, watching everyone else seemingly get ponies and the things they’re praying for slipped into their hearts and hands.

Yet, the God who sees me is relentless. He whispers to my heart, “Do you really only love me for what I can give you? Will you really only love and praise me when I give you those tucked away prayers you don’t even know if you should still be praying? Do you not trust that I have this, even this under control?”

I whisper back, “I’m sorry, Lord. I’m hurt and I’m learning to be honest while still holding fast to Your truth. I’m here. I love you. Help me trust, believe, and celebrate that your plan will be and already is truly beyond all that I can imagine and that it is for good.”

He whispers love to me in the doubt and the questions. He lets me wrestle with Him as tears pour down my face. He hears my pleading cries and loves me the same. Nothing I can do can separate me from His love. No fit of rage. No streak of jealousy. No rash words. No accusing voice. Ever patient. Ever kind.

I continue this dance of raw honesty mixed with gentle nudges to renew my mind with the truth that sets my heart free to experience peace.

He sees me. Even when I can’t tell yet.

This month I have asked some of my fellow bloggers to join me here at The Little Missionary Girl All Grown Up to share how they have seen the Relentless Love of the Father in their lives in moments of brokenness, heartache, and valley-of-shadow moments. This post is the 2nd in the series of that exploration into the passion of the Father for us across the miles, across the generations, across the hearts that are His.

To read more posts in this series, click here.