In silence my heart saw what my eyes could not see, my heart heard what my ears could not hear and my heart spoke what my lips could not speak. In silence I was able to enter a special room in God's heart, a quiet room, a weeping room. In this room I found Jesus holding a heart in His hands, the heart of a young woman, a heart which had been broken. He was weeping over that broken heart. He was feeling the heart's hurt and loneliness. He wept over that wounded heart longing so much to heal the wound that tore it apart, but this young woman would not seek his comfort. I saw Him pick up another heart, a heart of wounded veteran. That heart was cold and barren and I watched his tear drops just roll off that hardened heart. I could sense He was wishing that each tear would somehow penetrate that heart, but this brave warrior would not open it to Him to allow the tears of His Savior to enter and soften his heart. As He picked up another broken heart I reached out to Him and touched His nail pierced hand and instantly I felt His sorrow and pain, the anguish felt by each heart and I too wept. All four of us wept. It was in this quiet, weeping room that I saw my own heart's desire. It was to not have a flourishing ministry, books published, or to even experience a healing of my body, it was only to seek and search for these hearts and let them know that there is a Savior weeping for them, longing to enter their wounded heart to allow His tears, His nailed pierced hands heal those wounds.
In silence my heart saw what my eyes could not see, my heart heard what my ears could not hear and my heart spoke what my lips could not speak. In silence I was able to enter a special room in God's heart, a quiet room, a weeping room. In this room I found Jesus holding a heart in His hands, the heart of a young woman, a heart which had been broken. He was weeping over that broken heart. He was feeling the heart's hurt and loneliness. He wept over that wounded heart longing so much to heal the wound that tore it apart, but this young woman would not seek his comfort. I saw Him pick up another heart, a heart of wounded veteran. That heart was cold and barren and I watched his tear drops just roll off that hardened heart. I could sense He was wishing that each tear would somehow penetrate that heart, but this brave warrior would not open it to Him to allow the tears of His Savior to enter and soften his heart. As He picked up another broken heart I reached out to Him and touched His nail pierced hand and instantly I felt His sorrow and pain, the anguish felt by each heart and I too wept. All four of us wept. It was in this quiet, weeping room that I saw my own heart's desire. It was to not have a flourishing ministry, books published, or to even experience a healing of my body, it was only to seek and search for these hearts and let them know that there is a Savior weeping for them, longing to enter their wounded heart to allow His tears, His nailed pierced hands heal those wounds.
