Draw Close - Thoughts Like Bees
Your presence is thick
Like honey, dripping and sweet
I find myself waiting
And hear You beckoning
I see You with arms stretched wide
Wrapping me in gentle embrace
A memory of salvation
Redemption — mirrored in Your frame
I whisper softly
“I don’t want to leave.”
You smile and say,
“Draw close, dear one.
You can stay here forever.
Time is not an issue.
—I created it.”
That voice so familiar, and so loving
“You see, from my presence you can never go
And from my thoughts you will never be.”
But my thoughts swarm
Like bees
— Riddled with accusations of the Enemy
Like bees
— Drawn to the nectar of the voice of my Maker
Drifting and vanishing in the evening breeze
War ensues within
“Can I really stay?
Can this be just like it was meant to?
Like the Garden I heard of so long ago
The one where we were banished for eating from a tree…”
I ponder aloud,
Afraid I‘ve offended—
— The one, where we walked together
In the cool of the day,
I hear Him whisper
There is no hatred, condemnation, or disdain.
Draw close, dear one.
He beckons again
My eyes drift back to the Ancient of Days
Redemption mirrored in His frame
Arms stretched wide
One look at Him
And I know.
He knows
— Me, far better than I even know myself.
“You were with me.”
He says
He continues,
softer now.
“With every jeer, slap, curse and nail.
You were there
— and I felt
Every worry, question, fear, heartache
— and pain.
So much pain.
Sin.
Shame.
— and every single ounce of it,
I felt in unexplainable love, carved in blood,
on my outstretched frame—
Blood
— flowing through cracks and crevices in the earth I fashioned, molding into the ground you stand upon
Blood
— hit the mercy seat.
Humanity not understanding the depth of their need
How redemption was My plan from the very beginning
Blood
— washed.
Clean.
YOUR SIN kept me on that tree
But, dear one,
MY LOVE for you got me off.”
Weeping, I stood
— far off and distant
Afraid to approach
“Draw close, dear one.”
His refrain, echoing again
How could He?
Grace upon grace
Extended
To a wretch like me
Relentless
Redemption mirrored in His frame
Complete
And
Total
Surrender
“Let’s go for a walk”
He whispers, leading.
Where could I go from your Spirit, where could I hide from Your presence?
— the Psalmist literature playing in my mind to the symphony of thoughts like bees
I don’t want to go.
I don’t want to hide.
“Where to?” I ask
He grins
Gently.
Knowingly.
“The Garden.”
Copyright ©
Cayla Corkill
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