You have been taking up a burden that presses very hard upon your heart, haven’t you? I can hear it in every line you’ve sent heavenward. It is no small thing to watch someone you love walk a path that is tangled with thorns and shadowed by deceivers, and then to feel, on top of it all, that others who ought to be helping are themselves held back by the fear of man. You have been pleading with God as a wrestler pleads, and I want you to know that your cries have not fallen on deaf ears. The Lord who bends down to hear the sigh of a contrite heart is bending down to you now.
Think for a moment about that prayer you’ve borrowed from the prophet Hosea, that she would be hedged in with thorns. That is a hard prayer to pray, because thorns tear at the flesh, and nobody loves the sting of them. But I want you to see this: when God plants a hedge of briars across a wrong road, He does it with a Father’s tenderness. The thorns are not to destroy her, but to turn her back from a precipice she cannot see. She may chafe against the hedge and feel its sharpness, but if it keeps her from tumbling headlong into the pit the evil one has dug, then those thorns are precious mercies. You can trust the hand that plants them. Our Lord Jesus knows all about thorns, He wore a crown of them, and every thorn was a grief He bore for the very wanderers He came to rescue. His head was pierced so that her heart might one day be whole. So do not lose heart when the answer to your prayer looks, for a season, like pain. The mercy is in the turning.
And if you are fearful that she has already gone too far, that the pit has yawned wide and the soil is slipping under her feet, let me set this before you: our Saviour is able to deliver a soul even when it is on the very brink. I have known the key to turn in the dungeon of despair when it seemed too rusty and stubborn to ever move, and the prisoner walk out free. The lock went desperately hard, it is true, but grace made it yield. Jesus has found a ransom. He is not waiting for her to clean herself up; He is able to lift her out of the miry clay and set her feet upon a rock, and take all the shame and all the folly and bury it in His own grave. So keep praying with confidence, not as though you were trying to persuade a reluctant Judge, but as one who is speaking to a Father who already loves her with a love deeper than you can fathom.
I hear, too, that you are carrying a weight in your own soul, a weariness, a need for wisdom, a longing for inner healing while you stand in the gap. You have been like a soldier who hears the din of battle around the very well where you hoped to draw water. But the Lord knows how to clear the wells of His people from the noise of archers. There are promises in His book that are exactly fitted to your case, and when you get your lips to one of those promises, you will drink and be refreshed. Do not let the enemy’s voice drown out the sound of living water. That voice will tell you it is all hopeless, that the situation is too tangled and the hearts are too hard. Muzzle that hound of unbelief! You shall not die; you shall live, and declare the works of the Lord. The burden-sustaining promise stands firm: “Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and he shall sustain thee.” Not merely “He will take the burden away,” though He often does, but “He will sustain thee” under it if He, in His wisdom, lets it rest a little longer. You are not carrying it alone; underneath are the everlasting arms.
Let me speak one more word of comfort to your fears about the pastor who draws back and the family that will not see. The Lord is not bound by the timidities of men. He can make a pastor bold in a single hour, and He can open the eyes of a family as easily as He opened the eyes of Hagar in the wilderness to see a well of water that had been there all along. Pray for them, yes, but do not let their slowness make you think that the chariot of salvation has broken a wheel. It is moving, and it will arrive precisely when the Lord intends.
Now I want to leave with you a sight which has comforted a great many trembling souls. When the children of Israel came out of Egypt, the Scripture says “He brought them forth also with silver and gold: and there was not one feeble person among their tribes.” Think of that! A people who had been ground down by slavery, beaten and exhausted, came out not limping and sickly, but with a vigour that astonished the nations. That is our God’s way: when He delivers, He makes His people richer than they went in, and there is no feebleness left upon them. I believe He will do the same for you. The very conflict that has left you so drained shall one day be the source of your strength, and the wounds that weep now shall become healed scars that tell of His faithfulness. Even now, lift your head. The night is far spent; the day is at hand. Let us pray.
Lord Jesus, we bring this burdened heart before Thee, and we thank Thee that Thou art the same Shepherd who gathers the lambs in His arms and carries them close to His heart. We ask Thee to do Thine own work for this dear woman who has strayed, and to hedge her path with such thorns of mercy that she cannot find a way to ruin. Bring her to a true and lasting repentance that is born of Thy goodness, not merely of fright. And we ask Thee to visit this household with a holy courage, let the fear of man wither and die under the shadow of the cross. Sustain this dear intercessor; pour the oil of Thy gladness into every wound, and let the wells of Thy word be to them a place of quiet refreshment. Put a new song in their mouth, even “I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the Lord.” We trust Thee for the end from the beginning. In Jesus’ name, Amen.