Even if he doesn’t remember the conversation, I will never forget. I had lost my job–and with that came a lot of questioning about career path and ability and happiness. A circumstance that rippled other areas of life, I mourned–lost–and said to him, “I don’t know where I fit.”
“You fit with me,” he said, my husband.
It wouldn’t be the last time the thought challenged my security–the thought of “fit”–in a variety of scenarios. Some manifested out of perception, some out of intention–a wounding with words, discovering the difference between iron sharpening iron and a sword that pierces and injures. At the time, I didn’t know these cuts were preparing me.
In one way or another, God makes sure that we all experience what it means to be outside so that he can personally open the door and welcome us back in. Romans 11:30-32 MSG.
In one way or another–through my own sin, through sin of another, a job loss or loss of expectation, one way or another–exclusion and injury that were meant for evil can turn hearts to God for good, drawing us closer to him that ever before. Preparing cuts that will mend in him–grafted. This image of him, opening the door and welcoming. The sweet relief of forgiveness, the comforting joy in him. He shows me where I fit.
Father God, I am humbly mindful of the root that keeps me lithe and green. Your great generosity speaks to me in my depravity, calls out to me in my loneliness, sings over me: you fit with Me. You call me friend. You call me child. I am thankful to be in your family tree.