I have on the headboard of my bed, two little books. There are very special to me for several reasons. First, they were given to me by some dear friends of ours, Larry and Jane, whose kindness, thoughtfulness and graciousness are always an example to me. They are testimonies that though the storms may destroy all, one can still rise up with a song in the heart and praise the Lord, even while the tears are freshly streaming down your cheeks.
The little books are special to me because of their colors. One is green, which is my husband's favorite color and one is red, which is my favorite color. Stacked together, they have quite a Christmas look to them, which is just fine with me. We were married a few days after Christmas, so it has always been our favorite time of year, and we love to see red and green together.
I love the books because they are old. I just love old things. I love the thought that they have been read and touched by many, many people. I love that others have turned the pages just as I have, that the edges of the spine are worn with use. Now, let me say here that new books can be nice, too. There is something special about being the first person to bend the spine of a book, or to separate the pages and delve into the secrets the pages hold, but an old book not only holds the secrets of the book itself but also of all the people who have held the book in the past.
The little books are special to me also just because they are little. Only slightly bigger than a deck of cards, the tiny books don't depict the incredible truths they contain. You see, both these books were written by Frances Havergal. Now, if you love hymns, that name may be familiar to you, because she wrote a great many hymns. These two little books each have thirty-one entries. The first book, entitled "Little Pillows", contains sweet little "pillows" of truths for us to rest our minds upon as we are going to sleep each night. They all are truths regarding the Lord Jesus and His relationship to us. The second book, "Morning Stars", to be read upon rising each morning, contains short essays about the different names of the Lord Jesus.
Tonight I was reading in the little book and the essay was about the Lord Jesus being our Head, and it mentioned that the Head always knows everything about the rest of the members of the body, especially pain. "For if your finger is hurt, your head does not have to be told! you know about it, and feel it, and cry out, in an instant." the book states. This is such an obvious statement, but it struck me as if I had never even encountered the notion of it before. The Lord Jesus knows my pain instantaneously of me feeling it! I don't need to cry to Him that I hurt, although I can't help but to do so, but I don't need to...He knows, He knows because He feels it. In a physiological sense, the brain knows the pain before the body part feels the pain. He knows my pain before I do. He knows and He cares. If He didn't care, He wouldn't have made Himself to be my Head in the first place.
I read from the other little book too, and it was about the suffering of the Lord Jesus for us and how great it was, greater than we can imagine, and how He didn't shirk from it, He didn't try to diminish it, but He willingly took that upon Himself because of His great love for us. Like the two little books tied with the black ribbon I use to bind them together, I put these two truths together in my mind. He knows my pain even before I do, and He can understand and care because He suffered for me more than anyone can ever imagine another person suffering. Whatever the source of my pain...is it physicial? He knows that pain. He was a perfect human enduring horrific torture. Is it mental? He knows that pain. He was the Creator of the Universe, humbling Himself to be misunderstood, lied about and betrayed. Is it emotional? He said in Gethesemane that He was "sorrowful even unto death" and yet He continued on because He knew He must die on the cross to secure our eternal salvation. There He suffered separation from His Father,whom He loved and from whom He had never been separated from all eternity. Whatever our pain, whatever our hurt...He knows, He cares, He has carried our burdens and born our griefs and He longs to do so again. Let us cast our cares on Him, for He cares for us!