I was sitting on the floor, my head resting against the wall, a cloud of overwhelm threatening to suffocate me. Time to get up, stand up, and put one foot in front of the other. What’s the next step? Less. The next step is less.

Jesus led me by the hand, me leaning on Him like a cane, to the big recliner chair. “Sit,” he motioned kindly. He brought me a cup of tea and sat down next to me, leaning forward, ready to listen, when the words to speak finally came. Like a good friend. So I began.

I began with tears and then with thumping my fist in anger. He brought me a Kleenex and listened attentively to my outburst. “It’s going to be okay,” He whispered as He embraced me in His invisible, tangible love. I saw tears in His eyes too when mine were moist. And I could see in His eyes that the anger in Him against my injustice was greater than the anger I felt. 

He lives with an ocean of pain, an ocean of righteous anger, an ocean of love. The tip of the iceberg of His emotions is reflected in His eyes, as his eyes mirror our own. Our eyes are like black-and-white versions of emotion, while His eyes are too vivacious in bright colors to look at for more than an instant. 

The depth of His understanding of whatever we are going through is like mining through the infinite core of His soul, where His pain resides. We see but a few grains of sand from this excavation on the surface, through the compassion of His eyes. His eyes understand me. And so, because I am loved by the One who understands me, and because He will be right beside me again today, his hands even now on my arm, urging me to stand, I can take the next step.

I lean against His arm, all day, again, lest I should fall. He guides me, showing me what can remain undone today, and what plants need watering. Who will stumble across my path who needs love today? I can comfort her because I have been comforted by the Greatest Comforter. I take another step, feeling stronger. Lord, help me to pour out Your love on a thirsty world, yet again today.