The gates of Jehovah Jireh Haven part like the gates of Heaven, complete with a chorus of angels singing my name. I must admit though, I never got around to imagining my Heaven with four Great Danes parting the crowds to wet-nose at any spare limb for their slice of attention…or that all those baby angels would like to pick off my toe nail polish when I stood still for but a second…or that God would allow games of Toilet Tag, Extreme Rock Paper Scissors, and Simon Says to disturb His peace. But so what?! It turns out the aforementioned additions to my previously imagined Heaven are, in fact, remarkable improvements.
Unfortunately, reality brings me back to Earth long before I’m ready. I feel their sweet little arms tighten around my neck in a sticky embrace and my heart clumsily stumbles over the knowledge that on those darling shoulders the weight of the world once rested, for however brief a time. The unbalanced burden of a child’s wisdom; knowing that nights are always scariest when his shadow enters her room and into her bed, but not knowing why it feels so wrong when he says it’s right. Knowing that the hunger hurts, that the thirst pains, and the heart aches, but not knowing if it was deserved, from where it came, or when it will ever end. It is a deep understanding of suffering without comprehension of how or why.
Jesus took the weight of our world’s sin on His back that one day. The deepest trespasses committed by the souls of the past, present, and future pulled Him down into the dark mires of death, where the purest of sacrifices was made. But I believe some people reject that gift of love. Love is never lost, no, but Satan closes hearts to hope and forgiveness. His greatest victory lies in contorting love, leaving it malnourished and withering in the depths of a desperate soul. It is when those people, those hurting, broken people, do not allow Jesus to carry this burden that the weight falls onto the ones Jesus always lifted the highest. My darling little sweethearts stumble under the suffocating darkness that is thrust into their innocent light. My heart cries out with grief when my fingers clutch at the babies with dead eyes and broken spirits, when I cling to them while flinging out prayers in every direction. The weight of their fathers’, mothers’, brothers’, sisters’, uncles’, and neighbors’ sin could not be supported by their tiny, precious shoulders. The great burden of it all simply caved in on their sweet spirits…but just when I begin to feel the chill that travels deep into my core in the face of such pain, there is a stirring in that baby’s eyes. A stirring of hope, a lingering connection to the light. A little dimple caused by a little smile. A squeeze between small cold fingers and big warm ones. A tired head rested for a moment on a willing shoulder.
That’s all it takes for me. I certainly cannot hold that weight on my shoulders even though I desire deeply to take it away from those babies. My babies. There is only one true hope, one true light, one true love, one true God. And He is the only one who can release us from all we try to carry around. We have to give it to Him, simple as that.
