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His shoulders, meant to carry the sins of humanity, the weight of the world, the pitiful needs of one struggling.

Divine Spirit, human flesh, all God, completely Man, no sagging or crumbling beneath the pressure, regardless of how great.

The crucified Body, torn and pierced and bloodied, then buried—only to resurrect, leaving wrappings in place, empty.

My Father’s heart, a spring of empathy and compassion, beating… longing to make His purposes known, by shaping her desires to mirror His, when her heart finds contentment in Him.

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But her shoulders slump as increasing weight presses heavily, etching the face, filling her thoughts with achings, anxieties, uncertainties.

Ever present is the reminder to look past her faltering steps by looking into the eyes of passersby. To offer a smile, kind words, to uplift and cheer other hearts burdened far more than hers, needing what she can offer.

To be in this moment here and now. Resisting the urge to escape or divert her weakening senses to what already was or might tomorrow be, not gazing beyond the present needs or those needy, determining to embrace each opportunity to bless.

How to maintain the walls built to support structures, bedrock reinforcing resolve, is found in the One immovable. Whose words speak to a thousand generations, full of truth, forever significant… comforting, convicting, transforming, upholding. Whose presence suffuses through her being. She catches her breath as mystery and majesty descend, enveloping her fragile form to strengthen and supply all she lacks.

Yet, as burdens grow, as responsibilities pile and cares increase… Help me, Lord… the enemy taunts, old worries tempt… Please, help me, Lord… insinuating inability, unworthiness, deficiencies too numerous to overcome.

Shaking her head, she remembers where her foundation lies, and rests on promises written from time immortal.

But the enemy is determined still, suggesting her resolve is shallow, her motives, tainted. Or perhaps His resources are limited, inadequate, the well of Love has run dry? No more chances for you… he whispers, oozing resentment as Heaven’s gates no longer welcome him or his kind.

Yes, too many times her mouth opens only to pour out faithlessness, nonsense. Her thoughts wander to barren realms where fruit cannot grow. Patience runs out, and hands hide, withholding grace. But forgiveness is found, whenever and however often it is sought.

Then God’s silence lengthens, and the Presence disappears, retreating into shadows. And slowly her spirit sinks, in tiny increments as faith wavers and arms reach outward, upward… I’m sinking, Lord. Forgive me. Please help me. Again.

Time to grasp more tightly to the only Source of sustenance… the only Rock that nourishes and undergirds, aiding and holding her snug, reminding her where real security is found.

Hear my cry, O God; attend to my prayer. From the end of the earth I will cry to You, when my heart is overwhelmed; lead me to the rock that is higher than I. For You have been a shelter for me, a strong tower from the enemy. I will abide in Your tabernacle forever; I will trust in the shelter of Your wings. Selah  –  Psalm 61:1-4

Once again she has found peace. And once again she presses on.

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