Dear
Pilgrim, are you lonely?
Are
you bruised? Have all your elders and betters left you? Are you longing for
some comfort in your short time here on earth?
Have
you need of a friend?
Then
pray. Ask of God. If He can arrange the sun, moon, and stars and by the breath
of His mouth hold them in place, then surely He can send a raven to feed the
hungry. I know this to be true! He has brought me meat and bread when there was
none. And how do you suppose? By coming on
the wing of a friend who was at the ready, bringing me a cool drink after the
brook had dried up.
O
Pilgrim, lift your head. Cry out. Ask of Him. A friend is one of heaven’s good and perfect gifts, and
certainly your Father knows how to give such. He knows what you need. Will
you trust Him?
Now,
may I offer you some friendly counsel?
It
is not unusual to long for a companion, someone with whom to walk alongside on
this world-weary, dust-laden trail. Heaven knows the birds do not talk back,
the winds murmur and return to the hollow, and the feet grow stiff without the earnest and stirring warmth of a
faithful companion. But gems are rare, and they are even harder to find. After
years of searching, the soul tends to take to itself, and grows forlorn in the
desert. How dim the light can be! This is where malaise can set in, a hardening
of the heart, a sort of soul-sickness producing a coldness that becomes all
too tempting. Don’t allow this. It will be a cancer for which there is no cure.
You must keep your heart ever tender, ever yearning, ever believing that God
knows what you have need of, and He will take the best of care and in due time.
This
moment begs a question: Could it be that, in this lonely time, God might want
you all to Himself? Does not your Father have the right to draw you aside,
bring you into His chamber, and teach you what it means to lean on the arm of
no man save His own? This, too, is a faithful wound, one that
yields strength and promise for those dark, wintry nights of the soul. Find in
Him this friend, one who
sticks closer than brother, and your journey will lighten, the road will
open up, the mountains and the
hills shall break forth into singing and all the trees of the field shall clap
their hands.
O, but to have someone like yourself — yet
different — to confide in is among the best of comforts. A friend to lean on in
times of trouble, to reveal old scars and fresh wounds to, now this is most
assuredly a heavenly gift! It is as though a sunbeam has been appointed to
shine downward upon you, like the sending of good news from another country
altogether! This, the tall glass of water you’ve been thirsting for, after all
the many disappointments and mirages, is the genuine friend who fulfills the order
tenfold.
Dear
Pilgrim, when He sends a friend to bless, there is no trouble
added. This heavenly bond is reserved for His saints, wherein abides a mutual
affection found in Christ. Ask Him for this kind of friend and you will be
drinking the dew of heaven.
By Elizabeth DeBarros ©
About the Author: ELIZABETH
DEBARROS makes her home in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains in
northern Virginia with her husband of 24 years, their two sons, and beloved
cat, Adagio. She cares deeply for people, words, theology, Darjeeling, and
likes taking long walks in any kind of weather. She can be found at Finding the Motherlode
sharing her thoughts, observations, poems, and the occasional firebrand.