My knees bend, and suddenly I am kneeling. I am no longer aware of whatever song is being sung, although my mouth and voice continue with the melody.

He kneels before me. Head bowed, I wait for Him to take my hand, but instead He waits. I glance up and am struck by the sadness in His eyes. There are tears.

“Jesus, why are Your eyes sad?”

He reaches out His left hand and gently caresses my cheek. “I feel every hurt you feel.”

Transparency comes upon me like a rush of wind. Logically, my heart should not be hurting. Sometimes I put myself in situations that undoubtedly will end in pain. I get emotionally involved and lose my head, throwing caution to the wind. Over and over again, I lose myself. I offer my heart even to those who are not asking for it. Especially to those who are not asking for it.

Jesus knows all of this already.

His eyes are filled with understanding; condemnation is nowhere to be seen.

I see a wayward branch fallen on the ground.

“Not a single branch that falls goes unnoticed by Me. I see every longing and feel every pain. I know your thoughts. You are beautiful. You are not forgotten. You are not forgotten. You are not forgotten. What I have in store for you is beyond anything you can imagine, and it’s worth the wait. You are not forgotten. I see you. I love you. I know you.”

Tears slip silently down my cheeks. How can His words carry such depths of healing? How can I hold onto this peace even after my eyes open?

I am His rose.

Not wilted. Not dried out. Not crawling with insects. Not falling to pieces.

He wills me to be whole, healthy, taken care of, fed, watered, nourished with sunshine, kept stable. He does not will for harm to come to me, or to my heart. He protects me like a glass dome. He speaks words of life. He showers me with joy, peace, love, worthiness, kindness.

Yet still I escape His protection and place myself in a situation that inevitably leads to pain.

Why do I keep doing this? Desperation fills my lungs.

“Hide me in the shelter of Your wing, please. Keep me safe. I’m afraid. I’ve given someone the power and opportunity to crush my heart again. Save me, Jesus. Don’t let me get hurt. You asked for my heart and I gave it to You. Protect and defend my heart, please.”

What will it take for me to stop doing this to myself, to Him? When will my heart stop wandering and instead be content with His glass dome? How long must I wait? Where is breakthrough?

My flesh begins to take over; it silences my spirit. I feel the walls start to emerge around my heart. Thick cement walls, impenetrable. I know it’s not the healthy response to my situation, but it’s my defense mechanism. Let nobody in, let nobody hurt me.

“This is the safest way,” I tell myself, I tell Jesus.

He is silent.

“If I ignore the one I’ve prematurely invested in emotionally, my heart will remain intact. I won’t risk rejection or abandonment. I won’t let him tell me I’m not worthy of love or attention or pursuit.”

My eyes are veiled again by pride, by fear. I sigh.

“Don’t let me get hurt.”

Nobody answers, because I determined to be the answer to my own prayer. Instead of trusting Jesus to protect me, I run. I close my eyes and ears and choose to ignore. I will protect my heart.

I awaken to my current surroundings and process the lyrics being sung:

“When I thought I lost me, You knew where I left me; You reintroduced me to Your love. You picked up all my pieces, put me back together. You are the defender of my heart.”