For you, the Son breaks

Categorized as Rhonda's Posts

This post was written in the glorious light of the springtime sun. Today, the sun breaks golden on The Three, casting diamonds aglitter o’er the snow-encrusted land. And Father’s heart, it’s “beeping (thanks, Little).” For you…

Stepping outside, I see it. The sun, it’s peeking, leaking light across the back fence just there at the edge of the world.

I stop for a moment on the back stoop. Stand quiet, breathing in, breathing out. Just a human, being, for a moment, instead of doing…

The birds, they’re singing, a song of spring, I think. They’re chirping life, and I drink it in as I tuck the backpack with the girlish accents and the BOP (Bright Orange Purse) in right behind me.

Driving along in the early morning, in the darkness-turning-light, I can’t stop looking. Eyes turning east, I’m watching the advent of the sun. Listening, ear tuned heavenward for The Voice as the sun is breaking.

The sun is breaking. The sun is…

The Son is breaking. The Son, He’s breaking…

In a time of trial, of soul’s dark winter, the Son is breaking. And just like that–faces. They come, one by one, the faces of those I love. Those who, too, are laboring, struggling in a season of death. Of loss, and pain. Of grief, of death. Of sickness and sorrow. So many faces.

All, needing the Son. Needing His touch. Needing the healing that’s in His wings. Oh, how they need–how we, yes, all of us–need the Son to break, bringing spring.

I see one more. It’s Jesus, mighty Son, friend of sinners, Great Physician. Him, risen and glorified, He breaks today. Breaks over barren fields, bringing life. Bringing hope. Bringing comfort, deliverance, healing and joy. Bringing light and truth.

For the one who calls me one day last week, weeping, “He wants a divorce,” the Son breaks. For she who says, voice cracking, “The cancer, it’s not in remission anymore,” Son breaks. For the one sustaining intense spiritual attack, oh, He breaks for her as well.

For the family whose loved one fell asleep and never awakened, the Son breaks. For the young widow, left behind with Baby Girl, the Son breaks. And for the family who buried Little Brother, lovingly clothed in polo and khakis, attended by his brothers three, the Son breaks for them left behind.

I’m driving home now. Writing finished, backpack and purse tucked in just behind, I look at the sky. And see that the night is gone. Day has come. The sun’s broken full over houses and fields, and green now tinges the land. The sun, it’s broken…

If you’re walking in a dark night of the soul, my friend, know this: the Son, He breaks, bringing joy. Bringing life. Breaks with hope, comfort, freedom and truth. And joy always comes–always comes–in the morning.

From my heart to yours,


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