(This post started as a spiritual word of the week. “Restore.” You might think it got out of hand, that I overwrote or that it was a waste of time. As I was writing, I thought all of those things. “Rita, stick to storytelling ,” I said. But then, I had to finish what I’d started. Back to storytelling real soon. )
Reaffirm, rearrange, reawaken, Rebirth, rebuild, retrain, Require, repair, remake, and revive. These things are the Lord’s domain.
Recruit, rectify, refine, recompense, Restore, refill, remain, Reward, resupply and recreate. Jesus renews me again.
Reimagined, resealed, reestablished, Released, revealed, reframed, Repaired, regathered and reconciled. All this, His power, I’m to gain.
***
The Lord cannot be replicated. He remembers my desires. My goodness barely resembles His. He gives what I can never repay. The best I can do is to relinquish, repent and then receive. Too often, I need to be reminded.
Thanks be to the One True God, the one who has refurbished, reinvigorated and repurposed me when He should have altogether rejected me. He reapplies grace when mercy would be more than enough. Failure, fatigue and futility beg me to retire, but He recommissions me to higher goals. Circumstances empty my hope and other necessary things. He replenishes me. He reinvests in me. Yes, me!
I should mention that it’s not me, in my power, who repels Satan. Evil does not recoil at the sound of my name.
Access to His throne is restricted by sin, yet my invitation has not been recalled. I go to him as often as requested. I am needy, asking Jesus to repeat His promises daily. I replay His words. I recognize and study His voice. I am never out of His influence or reach. He is faithful to our relationship. Mine is a pattern of good works and retreat. I try and retry to measure up.
Fear and childish rebellion tug on me—pull me away, but I’m still His. He claims and reclaims me. I am desperate for His attention because I have no other redeemer. He is faithful to resolve my struggles and frustrations before I become unraveled. His reception is warm. We reunite.
I do not resent that His reply is correction or discipline. Forgiveness takes me to my knees. I think I can’t get up, but He cleans and recovers me. He tells me I cannot be replaced because He’s the one who knit me together. It’s then that I realize His restraint. Were it me whose reputation had been harmed, I would have punished—fully reproached, permanently reproached. But He longs for me and tells me to remain, which is for my sanctification.
When I have exhausted all combinations of the 26 letters in my limited alphabet, it’s remarkable that Jesus accepts my words of praise, shouted or whispered. He counts my tears and reads my heart. He judges no worship or thanksgiving as redundant. I don’t expect mere humans to look at me and see or understand, but reasons to rejoice overwhelm me.
***
Now the word resurrection comes to mind as I close … this meditation on R followed by E. I’m embarrassed. It should have been top of the list. Without that word, where would I be?
For the word resurrection gives me rest—repose. It’s a day I can almost see. A new language? Where there is no searching for words? And the final revision of me.
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