Last night I woke up from a dead sleep to a blood curdling scream. The kind that makes your spine straighten, your hair stand on end, and your teeth grit down hard. When you live in a house with three females, that’s plain bad.

I sat straight up. It’s amazing just how many truly horrible scenarios can play through the brain in just a matter of seconds, and that’s exactly how long the whole thing lasted, seconds.

In the amount of time it took me to sit up, Eryn was out of bed, across the hall, and scooping up our 10 week old daughter. Mikayla had screamed and then spit up everywhere. A bad dream or an upset tummy. Pure fear for us.

Eryn settled her down. When Eryn came back to bed she was almost bragging, “I was fast.” Yeah, she was.

A similar thing happened a few months back with our oldest daughter. That time, I was the fast.

I ran.

And some people don’t realize it, but that’s just how God is. The Lord is fast. But we don’t often cry out for help. And He is waiting for us.

The psalmist said, “Then they cried out to the LORD in their trouble, And He saved them out of their distresses.” (Psalms 107:13)

He runs to us when we scream, no matter where we’ve been. If we’ve completely ignored Him for months, He runs when we scream. If we’ve been unfaithful, He runs when we scream. If we’ve served diligently, He runs.
Agnostic, He runs.
Disciple, He runs.
Hopeless, He runs.
Destroyed, He runs.

And when He scoops us up in His arms He reminds us: He runs to us when we scream.

Was there a time when you screamed and He ran?