He keeps whom he brings in
Held in his hand
There is a fear that can haunt the deeper journey: that having come so far, we might somehow lose it — slip back, fall away, be cast out of the rooms we have reached. Teresa knew this anxiety, and so does anyone who has tasted God's nearness and dreaded losing it. Jesus speaks directly to that fear with a promise of staggering security.
I give them eternal life, he says of his sheep, and they will never perish; no one will snatch them out of my hand. The soul that God brings into the inner rooms, he keeps. Our hold on him is often weak and wavering — but his hold on us is not. The security of the deepest union does not rest on the strength of our grip, which fails, but on the strength of his, which never does.
The psalmist found the same ground under his feet in his darkest hour: nevertheless, I am continually with you; you hold my right hand. Notice who is holding whom. It is not the soul desperately clinging to God, though it clings; it is God holding the soul. Whom the Lord brings into the inner room, he keeps there by his own grip. You do not have to live in terror of losing what God himself is holding.
“I give eternal life to them. They will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of my hand.”
— Jesus, the Good Shepherd — John 10:28 (WEB)
Rest in the security of his grip, not yours — trusting that the God who brought you into the inner room keeps you there, so you need not live in terror of losing him.
“Nevertheless, I am continually with you. You have held my right hand.”
A quiet terror haunts the deeper journey — that we might slip back and forfeit the nearness we treasure — because we feel the weakness of our own grip and assume the relationship depends on it. The interior work is to relocate our security from the strength of our hold on God, which wavers, to the strength of his hold on us, which never fails, trusting that whom he brings into the inner room, he keeps.
This week, when the fear of falling away or losing God's nearness rises, preach the promise to yourself: no one will snatch me out of his hand. Trust his grip rather than your own, and let the security of being held quiet the anxiety of holding on.
We feel how weak our own grip is and project that weakness onto the bond itself, living in a low, constant dread of slipping back and losing the nearness we have come to treasure. But union never hung on the strength of your hold; it hangs on his, and no one — not even your own faltering — can snatch you from the hand that brought you in and holds you fast.
Even far into the journey, a quiet terror can persist — that we might lose our footing, fall back, forfeit the nearness to God we have come to treasure. We feel the weakness of our own grip and project it onto the relationship, living anxiously, as if staying close to God depended entirely on our never letting go. Jesus speaks peace to exactly this fear.
The security of union does not rest on the strength of your hold on God, which wavers, but on the strength of his hold on you, which does not. No one will snatch you out of his hand — and that includes your own faltering. The God who brought you into the inner room keeps you there by his own grip, not yours. Are you living in fear of losing a nearness that God himself is holding fast — and what would change if you trusted his grip more than your own?
- Do I live in fear of losing the nearness to God I have found?
- Am I trusting the strength of my grip, or his?
- What would change if I rested in being held rather than holding on?
Lord, I live in quiet terror of losing my hold on you, forgetting that you are holding me. No one can snatch me from your hand, not even my own faltering. Let me rest in your grip, secure in the inner room you yourself keep me in. Amen.