this is the marvel of marvels …
“Observe therefore all the commands I am giving you today, so that you may have the strength to go in and take over the land that you are crossing the Jordan to possess, and so that you may live long in the land the Lord swore to your ancestors to give to them and their descendants, a land flowing with milk and honey. The land you are entering to take over is not like the land of Egypt, from which you have come, where you planted your seed and irrigated it by foot as in a vegetable garden. But the land you are crossing the Jordan to take possession of is a land of mountains and valleys that drinks rain from heaven. It is a land the Lord your God cares for; the eyes of the Lord your God are continually on it from the beginning of the year to its end.
“So if you faithfully obey the commands I am giving you today—to love the Lord your God and to serve him with all your heart and with all your soul—then I will send rain on your land in its season, both autumn and spring rains, so that you may gather in your grain, new wine and olive oil. I will provide grass in the fields for your cattle, and you will eat and be satisfied.” (Deuteronomy 11:8-15)
I am stuck wandering in the desert; all my dreams and thoughts yearn for the far green country.
He said it is out here somewhere … right? My heart knows he spoke truth, but my mind and senses are choking in all this sand and grit.
God, why have you brought me here? I toil for hope, but it is not to be found. What am I doing wrong? Why has my shovel not struck a well so I can last a few moments longer?
I don’t understand.
Please.
Please, help me.
Trembling, sinking, I raise my blistered hands to the merciless heat that bears down upon my shoulders. God … save me.
All I wanted was to find you in a place that was just for us. How can I carry on if I cannot breathe for the grief in my chest? It is killing me.
I thought the grass would be greener here; indeed, I thought there would at least be grass. Not dry winds that rattle my bones like a melancholy timbrel. How far must I fall before I can taste the milk and honey? Where is the river I know I must cross to finally bow before you?
My greatest desire is for your country, lord king, those rolling hills and valleys drenched in your fragrant oil.
Was I not on the right road? How did I lose sight of your bright robes turning a corner?
Tears burn more than the sand when I understand I have dug this pit for myself. Why was I setting my camp here when this is not where he told me to stop?
Further up.
Further in.
Weary, yet suddenly filled with energy I didn’t know I had, I crawl to my feet.
I will not die here.
Finally mustering the strength to open my eyes again, I realize the reason I was able to stand.
There’s a hand on my shoulder … a hand on my shoulder and I hear a voice, like music, in my ear. “Beloved, arise.”
When I meet the gaze of him whom my soul loves, I fall again to my knees.
“Lord, oh my Lord, you have come.”
“Always, Beloved.” He again brings me to standing, holding me steady.
Without realizing it, I had come to a vast shore. Crashing waves thundered and gasped against the sand. His strength and the wind brought to my fevered limbs a delicious coolness.
With one arm still around my shoulders, he pointed beyond the horizon with the other. I could just make out a sliver of emerald in the distance.
“Do you see that island?”
“Yes.”
“I have called you out beyond even that land. Do not despair now.”
“Forgive me, Lord, I had forgotten that your face and your path are my joy.”
“Then he breathed upon me and took away the trembling from my limbs and caused me to stand upon my feet. And after that, he said not much but that we would meet again, and I must go further up and further in. Then he turned him about in a storm and flurry of gold and was gone suddenly.
“And since then, O Kings and Ladies, I have been wandering to find him and my happiness is so great that it even weakens me like a wound. And this is the marvel of marvels, that he called me Beloved.“
Emeth in *The Last Battle* by C.S. Lewis
