Someone had a picture during morning prayers of a person looking at themselves in a cracked and broken mirror. The Father showed me that if I looked in the mirror of his love for me, I would see a truer and clearer image both of myself and my past. I asked him to show me myself and my journey through his love, and he did.
Sad and painful things in my childhood are no longer indicators of the Father’s distance or lack of care. In the mirror of His love I see angels on assignment, waging war and winning. I see His Spirit wrapped around my spirit. I also see choices being made by people governed by sin and brokenness, spurred on by a host of demons. Then I suddenly realise that I have always been surrounded by songs of deliverance and victory, songs sung by the angels and God himself; my spirit has grown up with this, it is part of my identity. I see the Father decreeing that nothing will ever transpire that stops my adoption into His family as a beloved daughter – this is His chosen inheritance from before the creation of the world. He permits nothing to thwart His purposes for my life (nothing that is, except my choice). I see that I owe my life to warrior angels on assignment, the Holy Spirit and a devoted Father who refuses to let go of his eternal purposes. And finally I realise that He has been faithful and He can be trusted.
Through the years, before I consciously knew of his existence, the Father has been watching over me. By his Spirit he has spoken to me and sung over me, his angels too have done the same; my physical senses couldn’t quite pick it, but my spirit knew. And since the day I chose him for myself I have become more and more aware of him in my life, until last week when he showed me more in the mirror of His love for me.
My response isn’t gratitude, or praise or even thanks.
My response is my love and a yearning for his voice and his face.