Letter #3: Love, Kat
It would be foolish of me to give generic greetings of hope for your wellness since I know, that the title of this book has appealed to the deepest part of your soul and as such, your wellness is not to its fullest. This is both to my profit and my loss. I profit knowing that my pain was for your purpose. That I can share with you intimate secrets and by so doing admonish (if you have never been told) that you are not alone. It is to my loss knowing that your journey is not an easy one, and as such mourn I with you.
The thing about darkness is its ability to trick you into believing that it is solitude. But solitude is not darkness. And darkness is not solitude. So even in this painful place know that you have community. That I am there. That I have learned this map like the underside of my hand and just like scriptural men of God, mentors and friends have assisted me in my navigation, so too I will you.
Consider not that we have done this through our own grace. Boasting in anything other than the infinite wisdom and supremacy of God is foolish. My heart barely contains the understanding that His love is infinite. That He both leads and delivers. There is peace in knowing that every desert, every Judas, every struggle was meant to bring you into an evolution of yourself. For seeds that do not grow will never be more than seeds. And a caterpillar unwilling to be alone for a season, could never metamorphose. I know this to be His intention, though, it is challenging to see at the time. But His heart is good, and that is what we must trust.
As you enter my safe space, I pray that the eyes of your heart be enlightened. That these pages would count me worthy to pour my soul, my heart and my mind onto its blank canvas. Most importantly, I pray that the Holy Spirit that inhabits this vessel and strikes it with awe, would allow His work in your lives, to become my masterpiece. This is in fact my core desire.
There are moments, I crave the kingly Wisdom of Solomon, with queenly additives. I recognize that I am limited in my understanding of hurt and pain. I have never traced its origin. I have never swam to its depths. What I do know is this. I have stood under its core when it rumbled below the earth’s surface, like the makings of a thunderstorm. And when it exploded I erupted, in scorching lava and deathly ash. On these pages you will see me exposed. Explode. You will see the volcano that pain has made of me. I promise, that I will be more intimate with you than I have afforded any lover. It is my hope that this intimacy yields itself to your wholeness.
I know that one of your first desires of God as you trace these words, is for Him to offer an explanation as to why pain occurs to innocent men? I know that sometimes you hate Him and revel the thought of hating Him. You exist from Him so hating Him means hating the core of yourself. I know that you have even embraced this idea. Articulated that you would be better than your forefather.
I have so often barged into the throne room to question Him. I have often been unsure of His mercy, hesitant of His grace. My lips do not always triumphantly participate in cliches of God and time and goodness. But, what I have found is this. Perhaps, it is not our job to understand the stars unless we have studied closely the inner workings of astronomy. And even then, some matters are still supposed and assumed. I can possess the age of Abraham and the Wisdom of Solomon and still never understand the hidden crevices of the Father’s hand. As such, I will not foolishly task myself, daughter of Barry, Child of I AM, to give facts to assumptions. Every line penned will not be facts. But they will all be truth. May mercy bring understanding. May grace bring revelation. And may love bring you into wholeness.
To my friends, I give you my undying love. To my enemies, you have my dying sacrifice. To strangers, welcome to my heart. And to those with blotchy faces, red eyes and clinging to scraps of tissues or the remnants of, may these pages be the flesh for your soul. Allow me to speak into your cracks, to kiss your bruises, if even for a moment. For I understand that life is only the total of many moments.
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Love, Kat
