Redemption. That’s what You’re talking to me about.

This time last year I was visiting the doctor’s surgery at least twice a week. I would go alone, I would sit and wait, sometimes for hours, by myself. Lies filling my skull, making it weighty with worry. Unable to read the magazines before me, no room to even allow the smallest piece of hope into my mind. Nauseaus, anxious, ridiculous.

Fast forward a year, the dreaded stomach cramps. Feeling pain. Feeling pressure. My bones are aching. A wild wave of white bites my skin. Its teeth cling. My bones ache. My blood drains. My skull sits heavy again: “no time to look after myself”, “I am not worth a single care…”

I peer to my right and he’s there. Blonde fluffy mop, puppy dog eyes:

Beth, look! I’ve got you… wait for it… a copy of House Beautiful. And, and Beth, look… not just one magazine, no no, not even two! THREE magazines for the price of one, courtesy of House Beautiful. There you go, read that! … Oooh AND! I know this might be a bit risky with your poorly tummy but… I bought you your favourite drink! Iced coffee, yummmm!

I thank him and dare to smile. I can feel the lies squirming in my skull: “pay attention to ME and not him, he doesn’t really care. Here today, gone tomorrow. You have to be independent Bethany Rachel Hall, don’t trust him. You can’t trust. Stop pretending and let him go already.”

Yet, he sits with me. Not just in the doctor’s surgery, but even after I’m discharged. When I’m pale and tired. Not much company. Boring, some would say. But not him. He doesn’t say. He silently chooses not to open his eyes as the world does. He chooses freedom. The kingdom of Heaven; of protection, hope and trust. He prays for me, he sits near. He does not boast and chooses not to resent. He’s following You. He’s running after Your name. Victorious, he sits tall in Your strength.

My skull jolts: lies hit the window screen. Light-headed, I hear: “You don’t deserve this Beth.”

And that’s not a lie. I don’t deserve him, I don’t deserve his love. At all. Not in the slightest. But You made a way. Every lie that I ever dared to entertain is covered in Your blood. Every time I’ve felt worthless and found my identity in pain, suffering, fatigue, glandular fever: You saw it all. You died so that I could live apart from those lies.

I look to my right and see You working in him, with him and for him. And it’s then that I realise the true meaning of blessed. Then that I understand true meaning of redemption.  And I’m in You, with You and for You: I don’t deserve You and I don’t know how to thank You. But I’ll make it my life’s purpose to try.

I love You. My redeemer.