Delivered Me

I sought the Lord, and He answered me; He delivered me from all my fears.
Psalm 34:4

Isn't that what I need the freedom from?
The angst, the twist, the tangles knotting up my heart, my mind?
I think I need release from this. This illness. This burn. This crumpling of my dreams. This sword, pierced deep. Or, dare I say, this life?
I come, charging at God, demanding, careening through the laceration. Insistant, that I would be released, liberated, from this.
When my soul has been harrowed by instruments sharp, I want deliverance. I want to be free from such indignation, as sorrow or agony. From the scraping of wounds, buried.
But that is not what I receive. Oh, no.
Oh, He wants us to come. Longs for us, for me, to come, pounding upon His chest. He wants to hear all about it. Every bit. And when I have splattered Him with my muck and my mess, it is then that He soothes the feathers ruffled. It is then that I receive. What I really need.
Deliverance. From. My. Fears.
The quaking of my heart that rumbles with dread. The flinching from the unseen, unknown distress to come. The shrinking and hiding from shadows, lurking. All the coulds, and mights and maybes, stalking. Me.
It is only when I feel safe, protected by a Shield about me, that I become brave. Courageous enough to face the affliction I am in. Now. To confront, this.
I do not need to be rescued from the chapter I am in. My God has written upon this page, in this manner for a reason. He has a purpose for it, for good. For He is good. But until I am liberated from all that chokes, I can not know. Him. His goodness. His grace that is enough, even for this.
Indeed, He has answered me.