We were on our way to church. I was in the passenger seat. A rarity on this morning since both my husband and I are moving in different directions and towards church at different times on most Sundays. Behind one of those loud cars. A souped-up version of a car of old I once had.
And it began a conversation about that car. About the ways I used to make mine “race-car” like. Modify it so it was loud. And then the conversation turned to what happened to that car. A memory long forgotten. One of injustice.
It’s interesting the things people forget about the role they played in your story.
This is what I said at the end of that conversation. But I also thought of this: Before that ride to church, I may have forgotten all the details. Those people who played a part in that story may have forgotten, or simply may leave certain parts out, but God knows.
God only knows what you’ve been through
God only knows what they say about you
God only knows how it’s killing you
But there’s a kind of love that God only knows. (Source: for King and Country)
It’s not just those material things we remember being mishandled, it’s the mishandling of our hearts as well. You have likely been hurt. You have likely suffered things you don’t talk about. Maybe you feel a loss you just still don’t understand. You were never given closure. Able to defend yourself. Tell all you know to be true.
But He knows.
He protects you. He defends you. He sees you. He hears you. He loves you.