“Do you trust me?”
“Lord? Yes, of course I do.”
He extends His hand toward me, “Here, take my hand.”
“No, I can’t – I am afraid.”
“But you trust me, right?”
I bite my lip and shamefully look away, tears welling up. I look up – sighing – trying to hold back the hot water stinging my eyes. Jesus catches my face. He is steady, calm, understanding – warm and inviting.
I notice his hand is still extended to take mine, but I hadn’t seen the scars before. Jagged holes mark His rough carpenter’s hands. Scars that painfully remind me of the price of my sin … the price for my ransom … the cost for eternal life with God.
Hands that touched many, healed countless and held humanity’s fate … hands that are now reaching out to take my own.
I take His hand in both of mine, one holding His and the other gently outlining His scars – the marks of His love for me. Soon our hands are wet. Wet with my tears – tears for my beloved Savior.
My Savior loves me. So much.
My heart leaps at the sound of my name from His lips. But I cannot take my eyes off His hands. I feel like such a fool. I have been such a fool.
“He is no fool who gives up his soul. My precious beloved, I am here. There is nothing to fear. I am here, with you.”
I look up at Him and through my blurry vision His countenance shines ever-so-clearly. Warmth and light and joy – pure joy and adoration – pour into my heart. I fall into His arms sobbing, releasing all I the fears I had kept bottled up inside. There was no room left for them once I embraced the incredible love He has lavished upon me.
Wiping my eyes and with a laugh I pull away from His embrace to see Him face-to-face. “Thank you.”
“My beloved, always. Now, how about that walk. Shall we?”
I sheepishly smile and look up at Jesus’ beautiful face, putting my hand back into His.
“Yes. Lead the way.”
And together we set out upon the water.