He approaches me and His eyes pierce through me. I am tempted to pass Him by. I don’t mean to- but I tend to do things on my own. I look up and see Him gazing upon me. His eyes peer through the walls I have built and they crumble at the sight of Him. I quickly try to gather them back up. I want to live in freedom but those walls have always been my safety. Truth is, He knows me. He knows how I cope and where I am just getting by. He knows my tired weakness and the places I feel insecure. And He loves me there. He meets me at the tombs of my life. I run around trying to glean goodness from past things that have died. And He calls me out into newness. “Come out of there, be made clean,” He whispers. I feel my bandages unraveling. The delicately wrapped masks I have layered on for safety, for protection. His eyes speak of freedom, of fortitude, of mercy. As I look up, I see His hand outstretched towards me. All I have to do is reach up. His wound is exposed and I feel relief. He knows pain and grief too. I can trust Him. He holds a plan for my life in His hand. He just shows me so I know I can follow Him. He never desires to overwhelm me by its presence. “I am,” He says. And so it is Him that I follow, Him that I gaze upon, Him that I seek. He encourages me and fills me with His tenderness.