Dreamer
Member
- Joined
- Nov 18, 2005
- Messages
- 2,134
I woke up around 4 a.m., feeling the Lord's presence around me early this morning. I began to worship him, even as I huddled under the blankets in the cold room. After worshipping Him, I felt as if God was giving me a chance to ask Him questions. ( I know that's strange, but that's exactly how it was.)
I thought carefully about what I wanted to ask Him. I discussed with Him (silently, in my mind, lol, so I wouldn't disturb my husband with the conversation) ....I discussed with the Lord some recent events that were full of pain and rejection, occurrences that only re-hashed old pain and reminded me of some of the pain of the past.
Finally, I decided what I wanted to ask of the Lord. 'If you please,' I asked cautiously, 'Please take away my pain. I don't mean all of it....just the main parts, the parts that really hurt me. You know the ones, Lord.'
I waited, trying to breathe evenly. Suddenly, I felt afraid for asking such a bold thing.
"No," He said gently. "If I take away your pain, your compassion will disappear like the twilight disappears into the sunrise, and you won't get it back. You will be like other people that you know, in that you won't understand peoples' pain. You won't pray with them and cry with them and teach them how to draw comfort from Me. Keep your compassion; I have taught it to you carefully; take strength from me, lovely child, and teach others how to be strong."
When I woke later that morning, I was glad He had not taken compassion from me. It was a new day to live and grow.
I thought carefully about what I wanted to ask Him. I discussed with Him (silently, in my mind, lol, so I wouldn't disturb my husband with the conversation) ....I discussed with the Lord some recent events that were full of pain and rejection, occurrences that only re-hashed old pain and reminded me of some of the pain of the past.
Finally, I decided what I wanted to ask of the Lord. 'If you please,' I asked cautiously, 'Please take away my pain. I don't mean all of it....just the main parts, the parts that really hurt me. You know the ones, Lord.'
I waited, trying to breathe evenly. Suddenly, I felt afraid for asking such a bold thing.
"No," He said gently. "If I take away your pain, your compassion will disappear like the twilight disappears into the sunrise, and you won't get it back. You will be like other people that you know, in that you won't understand peoples' pain. You won't pray with them and cry with them and teach them how to draw comfort from Me. Keep your compassion; I have taught it to you carefully; take strength from me, lovely child, and teach others how to be strong."
When I woke later that morning, I was glad He had not taken compassion from me. It was a new day to live and grow.
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