In the Hand of God |
In the Hand of God |
God,
It's me again. I know what it is that You are waiting to hear. Just one word that's all. But that one word is hard to speak, especially when you're a Jesus Girl who knows that to speak it without meaning it would be worse than not speaking it at all. You have been careful to show me glimpses of what that word could mean for me if I speak it. Although it has been painful, I am thankful that I got to see where this journey might lead and tastes of how my heart may feel when it does. You didn't have to do that, but I am grateful. Anything. You want to hear me say it. You want me to mean it. God, I really want to be able to say it. I want to mean it with all of my being, but I have to be ready. You and I have come too far in the last couple of years for me to even think about making a half-hearted commitment to You. If I say anything, then I must mean it with everything that I have. God, saying anything means everything. It means that I stop holding on to those things I cling to and hand them over to Your keeping while I stand with hands empty and open. We sing it and say it, but that's hard to do. It's hard to stop gripping the door facing and jump. But that's what You want. And You are waiting. In saying anything, I am giving You everything. I must surrender my personal dreams and plans for they are not to be. All those things that I thought You were planning to bring about are not at all what You had in store for this little family of mine. It seemed so obvious and yet it wasn't really. It's hard for me to wrap my brain around what I think You are asking. It's going to be harder for those around me to understand it. I must surrender my children for in speaking the word I am waging a spiritual battle in which they face attack. The best way to get to the mother is to attack her children. God, I have focused so hard on their protection. I have grown to understand what it means to be that she bear that protects and defends without counting the cost to herself. You are asking me to place them on the altar. You are asking me to follow You in such a way that could sacrifice who they are and what they may become. You love them more than I do, but I am their mom and my Creator made me in such a way that I would die to protect them. Placing them in harm's way is difficult at best. I must surrender my marriage. This journey will be difficult not only for myself and my children, but for my husband as well. For to share my journey, I must share his. You haven't promised that this journey will be easy and when you are already sitting in a painful place the unknown can appear even more scary. And God, no one is going to understand this. I already know too well what it feels like to be alone. This path that You are asking me to walk will look different to others than what it actually is. I've already tasted it. I get the feeling that some are waiting for me to hit the altar and make things right with You because they do not understand this place where we are. Like You and I could have gotten where we are by spending a couple of minutes on a carpeted altar. This journey has required hours of prayer, sometimes face down on a brick retaining wall or in the wet grass, on a picnic table, or in the fetal position in the floor for nights in a row. What we must look like, You and I. I fear the picture most see is not at all accurate. I think about Hannah praying to You so intensely that she appeared to be drunken. I understand that depth of prayer, and I understand that it can be easily misread. But God, even with knowing all that. Even after the added pain of this last week cementing what I already feared to be true. Even in this place alone, I am compelled to answer. I am compelled to answer You in the only way that I know how. I have to give it all to You, no matter the cost or the pain involved. And so I speak the word that You have waited so long to hear...ANYTHING. This life of mine belongs to You, not me. Whatever it is that You want for me. Wherever You ask me to go. You are mine and I am Yours. Forever. For always. No matter what. That's what You're asking for, and my answer is ANYTHING.
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Then she called the name of the Lord who spoke to her, You-Are-the-God-Who-Sees; for she said, “Have I also here seen Him who sees me?” Genesis 16: 13 NKJV
Dear God, It's been awhile since I have been here with You. It has been difficult to be here. I know that isn't a good excuse but it has. Somehow I managed to get lost in the desert. Rather than to keep moving and stay focused on You, I allowed myself somehow to get lost here in this place of famine. It isn't that I like it here. It's just that I am paralyzed to move past it. This is a time of revealing just how hard this journey is going to be. I am so thirsty here in this desert. I crave Your presence. I need to know You are here and I am where I am supposed to be. It's hard to be here alone. I know You are with me, but part of me longs for human companionship and support here. I so need someone to be Jesus with flesh on them, not only for me, but for my family. God, how do you claim the promises of the verse about where two or three or gathered, when you can't gather two or three? I always thought it was crazy in the Bible that there wasn't enough people found to save Sodom and Gomorrah or more to put on the ark, but I'm finding that people who are willing to go the distance are hard to find even today. So here I am in the desert knowing that I need to leave. I can't sit here in this barren dry place and do what You have asked me to do. But God for me to move there seems impossible. This place You are asking me to go. This place where You are leading me. God, it promises pain and suffering. I already had a taste of it this week. God, if they think what I have written is raw and offensive now, what will they think of what is to come? What You are asking of me can be nothing less. And so much like Hagar in the wilderness, I find myself in the presence of the God Who Sees. I have seen Him who sees me. And what did you have me do? Look up the definition of raw. Raw means to be in it's natural state, not processed or purified...not evaluated or analyzed...strong and undisguised...bleak, cold, and damp...red and painful. And there's a breakthrough here in this place of famine. Yes it is raw. It is supposed to be raw. For where I am is bleak, cold, damp, and painful. What I write is strong and undisguised. I am not processed and purified. I am a work in progress. And what I say is real...not evaluated and analyzed to please man, but straight from a heart touched by You. And as far as being offensive....well now You can be offensive to people too, can't You? And God most importantly, this feeling alone. God, I can do a lot. I can go through a lot. But God, the one thing I cannot do is to live this life without You. You are my maker. You are my Prince of Peace. You are my mighty warrior. You are my God....my all in all. The only one that matters is You. Even if I lose everyone else, I cannot lose You. So God, can we leave this desert? You have my everything. I told You I will go there. You have me....ANYTHING. I have seen Him who sees me and there is nowhere else I want to be. I want nothing more than to walk this journey with the God Who Sees. Dear God,
This place where I am is dark. I would be lying if I said that I wasn't afraid. But You know what it is that I am afraid of the most. It isn't the heartbreak. It isn't the darkness. It isn't even Satan. The thing that I find most paralyzing about all of this is that I will probably disappoint You, and in so doing I will destroy my calling. But God, surely You know where I am. God, I have tried so very hard to walk this path in a way that You would be pleased with, but I am human and weak...so very weak and broken. The scary part is that I am very much aware of how vulnerable I am at this point, and yet the battle rages on with more intensity every single day. Surely You know how tired how I am....how broken....bitter.....worn. God, he has done his homework. He knows me well. He has managed to turn things You are doing in the lives of others into ammunition for me. It's crazy that I fall for it. It's crazy that at this point in my life that I would even let myself still hang out there with those thoughts and dreams of yesterday when You have made it clear that those may never have been Your intentions anyway. But God it made sense. It went along with everything I have been taught. It was straight from the writings of Paul. Everything lined up and made perfect sense. But that is gone now....probably forever. I wonder if maybe it was Your will originally and sin messed up the plan, or was it never Your plan to begin with? Maybe it was mine and I just didn't know it. But God, this new plan....it has to be Yours. God, I would never have come up with this on my own. It makes absolutely no sense, and as for Paul and his letters....well, he wouldn't be at all happy. God, I think I liked the other way better. I understood it. This one I don't understand. God, I woke up at four this morning and I felt like I had been beaten. I feel like I have been beaten from my head to my toes, and then I have been bound and gagged. My hands and feet are tied so tightly that I cannot imagine even being able to move the tip of my toe. I cannot speak, and even if I could there are no words. And I find myself in the bottom of the deepest darkest pit alone. I dare not think about what might be down here with me in this darkness, I cannot let myself go there right now. It's hard to see anything down here, but I'm pretty sure the top of the pit is encircled by ravenous wolves. I can see their shadows and hear them panting. I guess they're waiting there in case I somehow manage to get out of here. I can hear You calling me. It isn't that I can't hear Your voice because I do. It's just that right now I am afraid to move,. I don't understand how I can get myself free from these things that have me bound, and even if some way I do get loose I cannot comprehend how I can begin to climb out of here. And let's pretend I do get out....what about the wolves at the top? But I hear you call over and over to me. The way You speak my name touches my soul in ways I cannot explain. You are calling me to come to You. We have an appointment You and I. You have invited me to join You on a small mountaintop in the distance. You are waiting for me there. I have this picture of me sitting with You there by a fire under the majesty of your sky filled with stars like sparkling diamonds. I am roasting marshmallows and You are telling me about he journey ahead until we meet again on another mountain further in the distance. I can see myself in the light of the fire...I'm all cleaned up and covered in bandages. You've brushed my hair and washed my tear streaked face. My body is battered but not broken, and it is alive from Your touch. But God, right now I am still down here in this darkness. It seems pointless to try and yet my soul has heard You call my name. No one else says my name like You do. No one else can awaken me like that. And so it doesn't really matter where I am because I have to be near You. I start to figure out how to loosen the bands and even how to use them to create temporary bandages to cover my wounds to make the climb less painful. I don't give much thought to the wolves now....right now I just have to get out of the pit. My brain tells me how impossible this is, but my heart...it doesn't know that word. It only needs to hear the Voice that it loves above all others. It only needs to be with You. And then I hear You ask me if I need anything. My brain wants to answer quickly and request rope, a flashlight, a weapon, and a ladder. But my heart interrupts. A flashlight would only reveal the contents of the pit and I don't need to be distracted by other fears. The ladder would be helpful but too heavy to carry with me after I get out. My heart is funny. The things it wants and needs are not what most would request. My heart wants some things for this journey. First I need water....Living Water. Second, I need one of those Elijah combo meals. I need to be fed in a way that will strengthen me for forty days and nights. And God, in some combination I need a Mordecai, an Elisha, an Aaron, and a Hur. I need a Mordecai to instruct me, love me, and point me to Your will for me. I need an Elisha to point out that when defeat looks certain because the opposition is too great , that there are invisible armies that protect and surround me that far outnumber those of the enemy. And lastly I need an Aaron and Hur to help hold me up when I am tired and without strength. Without much thought I find myself starting to work loose from my bonds. I keep hearing You call my name and I see that picture of us on the mountaintop in my head. I am tired and bleeding. It makes no sense to try....and yet this heart of mine, it knows Your voice and it longs for You. And so I'm on my way. I have no idea how I am going to get there and I don't know how long it will take, but I am on my way to You. "Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name And they're always glad you came. You want to be where you can see our troubles are all the same. You want to be where everybody knows your name." I meet with them at least once a week, usually more than that. A lot of us are broken. Some battle with the effects of alcoholism in their homes. Some face addictions themselves. Some battle depression. Some have thoughts of suicide. Some were victims of abuse. Some are fighting to keep their marriages together, while others have already seen theirs fail. Others know the heartache that comes with caring for a sick loved one. Some are battling infertility. Several were raised in broken homes. All of us are broken in some way. We all have a story. Occasionally a stranger comes in when we are meeting ...strangers who themselves might be broken. You would think it would be a great place for them to visit. Surely in that group of brokenness they could find someone with which to identify. But they don't. I fear that they come in to our group and they don't see people they can identify with, people with similar backgrounds and burdens. I fear that what they find are picture perfect people with picture perfect families. Nicely dressed families with 2.3 kids, nice cars, and nicely painted on smiles...the American dream...normal. And the visitors leave...once again finding that they don't belong here because they are broken and no one would understand or accept them. And they go out into the world, looking for someone who is real...someone who would understand....someone who cares. There are places in the world where you can find someone who will sympathize with your pain. Places where they all know your name. Places where you are accepted for who you are or what you have become with no questions asked. Places where you are offered a beverage instead of a blessing. Places that offer shared misery instead of a shared ministry. Places where they will hold your hair while you vomit instead of your hand while you cry. Why is it that those who are hurting feel more accepted and loved in a bar than in a church? Could it be that the world does a better job at being real than we do as Christians? Why is it that we feel that the Christian life must appear so perfect? Are we trying to impress God or men? Do we think because we are saved that we are to hide the broken places? Do we think that brokenness is a sign of not being enough for God? A picture perfect life makes a beautiful light, but it may shine too brightly for most people to draw near it. The brightness of the light may be captivating, but it can be so bright and perfect that it repels more than it attracts. There's a softer light that shines through the broken places of a worn earthen vessel. There's a warmth to it that draws people to its light. People need the gift of Christ wrapped in authenticity. They need to see you be real. They need to hear about your struggles and the role that God has played in them. When you don't try to cover your brokenness, it can be seen and God can take those broken places and help you light your world. When we allow Christ to shine through our imperfections, it creates a warm light that draws the hearts of others who are broken. The warmth of the light doesn't repel, but draws those to it that need it most. The church is not to be a holy hotel for saints, but a hospital for sinners. When you go into a hospital for help, no one leaves you to sit there alone. They don't assume you're fine, they assume that you are broken somewhere and set about to help you get well. When you enter a hospital, your first stop is triage. A series of questions are asked so that they understand why it is that you have came. The next step is to get you to those who can start to help you heal. That's what church is supposed to look like. Church isn't there to offer your concierge service. It's there to help identify your broken places and help you heal. When are we as Christians going to get past the things that make us feel uncomfortable and get some dirt under our fingernails? When are we going to be like Jesus and reach out to the outcast? When are we going to seek out the woman at the well on her turf? When are we going to eat a meal with the outcast? When are we going to be willing to stand with the adulterous woman and simply tell her to sin no more and give her the tools to make it possible, rather than to condemn and shun her? When will we move beyond superficial relationships with those in the pew behind us, and make sure we build quality relationships? When will we be willing to share our story, knowing it's part of His story? Church needs to become a place where you can see that our troubles are all the same. We need to be the place they come to feel safe and understood. They need to understand that God is in the healing business. He doesn't expect us to be perfect. He only wants us to be willing to follow Him. He sees our broken places, but not the way humans see them. He sees them as windows for His light to show through. So Christians, let your light so shine so those who are hurting can see your light and glorify your Father. Take a risk and share your story. There's someone out there who desperately needs to hear it. God, Remember that little shell that we found on the beach in December? I remember looking closely at that tiny perfectly formed shell all alone on that dark beach and thinking how amazing it was that it was still in one piece. I think I was mesmerized by that shell because it reminded me of myself. The journey has been a long one. Much of this journey I have felt like that little shell. It seems like one minute I am floating and see sunlight only to be overtaken by yet another tumultuous wave and pushed down into the darkness. There have been times when I thought the seaweed would succeed in choking the life out of me. At times I thought it would just be easier to give in to the waves and just let them win. But I find myself lying on the shore much like that little shell. The waves continue to wash over me but without the force that they had when I was out in the depths. They don't have the ability to toss me to and fro as they once did because for now I am nestled in the sand. Although I feel the strength of their current, the sand will not allow me to be carried out for I am being held. Although the confusion of being swept about among the waves has ended, I still find myself alone in the darkness. The darkness of the beach is welcomed after the uncertainty of the waves, but I find myself wishing for light. And then I see You looking down at me. Only a dim ray of light shines on me through the darkness just like that night on the beach when we found that tiny shell with the flashlight on a cell phone. It amazes me that we found it there on the dark beach with such a small light. Almost as much as it amazes me to see You peering at me through the darkness just to let me know that You see me. God, I lay here in the darkness wondering when the light of Your plan will come. Right now I lay here trying to take it all in and process what You must want from me. You have revealed so much to me this week that I feel overwhelmed. This world I live in is such a terrible and cruel place. Evil seems to prevail in a world where You remain in control. It's so hard for a human brain to comprehend- especially the brain of a Jesus girl. And yet you call me to walk into the depths of the darkness willingly. You ask me to go counter to this culture in which I live and take a stand. You ask me to get up off this beach and be willing to run headlong into the ocean into depths above my head knowing all the time that I can't swim, but knowing that I need only to trust you fully. God, this is bigger than me, but it isn't bigger than you. You're sending me into what the world says is impossible territory, and yet I know that impossible doesn't exist with You. God, part of me is afraid. Sometimes amid those waves being tossed violently in the darkness, I can barely breathe. Sometimes it gets so dark there, I can barely see Your light or hear Your voice. That is what scares me the most. And so I stand here on the shore, listening to the crashing of the waves amid the darkness countered only by the light of a few stars. You call to me to enter the depths - to trust that You will prevent me from drowning. At first I am overcome by the memories of the waves, the darkness of the depths, and the pressure of the water against my chest. And then I look at that tiny shell. No one but You and that shell know where it came from. We will never know the distances that it had to travel or the depths of the waves that tossed it to and fro on its journey. No one can know the currents it withstood or the dangers to its being that it encountered. But I can tell one thing about this tiny shell as I hold it in the palm of my hand...it is unharmed. That little shell may have been pressed upon by a weight it shouldn't have been able to withstand. It may have been thrust into the darkest depths of the ocean. It may have traveled for days in sheer darkness, yet I hold in my hand what appears to be a perfect shell because it was protected by Someone larger than it. The God who created the universe is not threatened by height or depth. The winds and the waves obey Him. He can protect the tiniest of shells until He brings it to rest on shore. It's funny how this tiny shell makes me want to run into the water. I am amazed by its beauty even though it is tiny. God, teach me not to fear the waves. Show me that there is nowhere that I can go that You won't be beside me. Teach me to crave the deepest places and how to swim against the current. Show me the beauty of a life fully trusting in You. I turned on the porch light to see a world covered in snow. Huge flakes of snow were falling from the sky continuing to blanket the world in white. I couldn't draw myself away from the window. The beauty of the snow falling and covering every tree branch and bush. Earlier in the day these same trees had looked dead. Their barren branches looking scraggly and sad. The bushes had stood as though hoping for the arrival of spring when they would once again be adorned with leaves and blooms. The ground had been muddy from the melting of the last snow, and the grass looked brown and close to death. But now under this blanket of snow, the world was absolutely beautiful. The trees now looked beautiful with their snow-laden branches. The bushes now stood in gowns of purest white. The ground covered in a blanket of white snow appeared to be completely untouched by any human or creature. Just a perfectly smooth white blanket coating the earth. While looking at the snow, it occurred to me that is exactly what happens with us when we are saved. God gave us His only Son to die for us. The blood He shed on the cross covers us in a blanket of white. In Isaiah 1:18 NKJV, it says, "Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow." Isn't it amazing that God now looks at us and doesn't see the ugly sin stained version of us? He just sees His Son covering our lives in a blanket of purest white. I walked away from the window with the beauty of the snowfall on my mind. How blessed we are that God made a way for us to come to Him. How wonderful is that when He looks at me He doesn't see my mistakes and weaknesses, He sees Christ in me. The snow continues to quietly fall and blanket my world, I whisper a prayer of thanks for not only the beauty outside my window, but for the beauty He makes in my life. Sometimes it's too hard to turn the pages. Who knew having Him lead you to a spot in the Bible could hurt more than the pain that led you to Him? But that's what it's like now...this dark season. Sometimes it feels like He's causing as much pain as your world is.. and that's tough because if He's against you too then who do you have? But He isn't against you...not at all. He's just pruning you so that you can bear better fruit. Anyone who knows anything about apples know that the best fruit...the biggest and best of all apples...comes from the ugliest of trees. It is the tree that in the winter appears to have been left to grow in whatever direction it will. It isn't well shaped like a Bartlett Pear or mighty oak. It looks dwarfed and has limbs that appear to have been chopped at various lengths. No one would think to adorn it with a brightly colored string of lights or use it's scrawled branches to hold a tire swing. But that tree that appears to be left to itself has had hours of attention. Her branches appear as they do as a result of endless pruning. She has been pruned as she grew in order to improve her fruit. For one fall in the future, someone will eat a huge shiny beautiful apple and comment on the quality only to be surprised at where the fruit came from. For the best of fruit can only come from a pruned tree. And so I have learned that this process of pruning is necessary. The pain is shaping me into His purpose. Part of me wants to bear Him fruit, yet part of me just really wanted to be left alone to bear tiny fruit...I mean, it's still fruit. I don't remember volunteering for this. I don't remember signing up for the hard stuff. I was content with just growing in my own way, but every time I start to grow in a comfortable direction, I feel the cutting shears again, pruning and shaping me in the way He wants me to grow. He isn't content to let me go for a season without any pruning. There is fruit that needs to be shared and He has called me to be an apple tree...not a mighty oak or a tall sturdy pine, but an apple tree. And so I turn the pages...wiping the tears that find their way to my eyes. I don't want to read the words on the page before me because I know the two edged sword is preparing to prune me...to open up my branches to be vulnerable to the elements around me. And yet I turn the pages because I have learned something else. He has taught me to want good fruit. I am learning to give up the dream of looking like a Christmas tree or holding the swing of a child in my branches. He has called me to bear fruit from scarred branches. And why should I shudder at the sight of the scars I may bear for Him...He bore much harder scars for me. Dear God,
We should know next week what it is...our current unknown. But it is already known to You. You are already there on the other end of this week seeing what we can't. So before we get there, before we learn what it is we don't know right now, I want to tell you what is on my heart. God, the past two years have changed who You are to me. I have learned to give You my everything. The tighter I cling, the more it hurts as it is torn from my grasp. You are my all in all...my everything...my heavenly Daddy. But God, this relationship I have with You stemmed from my relationship with him. I remember always feeling safe when he was near. He wasn't the strongest man around or the toughest, but I never doubted that he could and would protect me. I was his baby girl and he would die to save me...just like You did.. I remember hiding beside the piano at someone's house during an argument and holding my ears. The next thing I know, I felt him tap me on the head and when I looked up, he lifted me in his arms and carried me away to a more peaceful place. How many times have You done the same thing for me...carrying me away from the storm? I never wondered if he loved us or my mama. I never wondered if he would be there. He was my daddy and I never considered him being anywhere else other than where I needed him to be. You are the same. So God, I'm asking you to protect this man you chose to raise me. He is afraid. The tears are always too close to the surface. Please give him peace. Let him know that no matter what we learn this week, that You are in charge. Nothing can touch him unless You allow it. I pray you will give him comfort in a way we can't. Give him peace that passes all understanding. God, I know I need to ask for Your will and I want to, but God, the reality is that I am selfish. I don't want to let him go yet. I want him to enjoy retirement now that he has finally gotten here. I want my kids to hang onto their last grandfather for awhile longer. I want to keep my daddy. So God, I'm asking first for good news this week. But if it's bad news, I pray for healing, comfort, and peace. I'm asking that You take care of my daddy who always took care of me and who taught me to love my Heavenly Daddy. I also want to thank You for choosing me to be his...because that helped me choose to be Yours. Love, Michelle It happened again. Every last splinter finding its way into the spot it has already punctured in my heart. All those thoughts I had managed to take captive, now roamed freely through my head...and my heart. Things I hadn't thought about in months, now standing front and center in my mind. Hurting in so many places at once that I couldn't even identify where it started.
And there I stood like someone trying to herd cats. It's impossible to recapture runaway thoughts when your heart is leaking from thousands of puncture wounds. Every tiny drop draining you more and more until you want to give into that nagging desire to throw in the towel. What if this time you didn't try to take them captive? What if for once you quit playing the part of Daddy's girl and just let them loose? But it isn't an option....not now, not ever probably...and so you look for another place to hide. Somewhere to cry behind closed doors. It's another one of those days that you can't even pray because if you did one of those thoughts might find its way out of your mouth. He already knows them, but the fear of how good it would feel just to let one escape is too great. If one leaves, its friend might follow. And so you cry....one of those "hair in a ponytail, snot everywhere, sink down in the floor in the fetal position" kind of cries. And the Holy Spirit says, "Here she goes again," and He makes intercession speaking the words your heart is too broken to form. The thoughts leave you guilty, and broken...and fragile. The thin places stretched so tightly that you're sure this time they will rupture. At first He doesn't answer. And then He sends a text from a friend offering a ride when you need it most. And then He sends a text from a friend who knows each and every one of the splinters and how they found their way into your heart. She's offering to call after work because she understands just as if the Holy Spirit wrote it on her heart too. You walk into the church basement at the point of exhaustion and find someone with a similar story, someone who bears some of the same splinters. You find yourself starting to feel encouraged, and then a couple of more arrows show up and you start to forget where He's lifted you too. So then He sends it to you in writing. Two different pieces by two different authors about two different things. From the blog entitled "Grace Uncommon", "Lovely one, if you dare to dream, you must be brave enough to fight." And then from Ann Voskamp, "What was intended to tear you apart, God intends it to set you apart. Whatever has torn you, God makes a thin place to see glory. Whatever happens, whatever unfolds, whatever unravels, you can never be undone." God paused just for you. He graced two ladies to write the words He wanted to speak to your heart. He had them write it in time so that it would be posted at the moment you needed it most. And you feel the touch of His hand....the puncture wounds closing tight around the splinters attempting to prevent loss of any more life-giving joy. The thoughts that once ran rampant begin to march single file into the darkest crevices of your mind. The God who created the Universe is calling you to Himself. He wants to fill the places in your wounded heart that He alone can fill. The people around you leave you feeling empty, but those empty places were never meant to be filled by them. He is the lover of your soul. He is the One who brings healing to wounded hearts. He is the One who can touch all the broken places and close them tight again. And as the healing begins again, you recall a quote from the writing of Ann Voskamp, "What was meant to tear you apart, God intends it to set you apart." And as you pause to ponder that statement, you hear that Still Small Voice beckon you to pick up the pen... Well God,, here we are. The fifth day of November arrived at midnight last night as I lay listening to my IPod. Just another day to anyone else except for us. I was told that I shouldn't remember days because they were bad, but that isn't what you said. In the Old Testament many great men who followed You built altars of remembrance. Altars to symbolize where they met with You. Altars to remember Your deliverance and providence. So why shouldn't a girl in 2014 build an altar of remembrance in her mind? A place to look back and remember her meeting with God?
So in the past few months I have worked hard to take the stones that I might have thrown and to bring them to this place. I have worked hard to collect the rocks that stood as boulders, and rather than hurl them or let them deter me from the path I was to take, instead to gather them up into something that You might see as beautiful. And so on this private anniversary, I present to you my altar of remembrance and offer you my thanksgiving. Thank you for listening to me scream and complain about how unfair it is. Thank you for allowing the Holy Spirit to give utterance when I had no words to describe the pain. Thank you for meeting me at all hours of the night. Thank you for the stars overhead that helped me to focus on You. Thank you for meeting me wherever I was whether in my bed, on the hammock, in the kitchen floor, or in a fetal position in the den. Thank you for teaching me that You are all I need. God, I am broken. I am a mess. You asked me to jump and my fear of falling kept me from obeying. I held on so tight that You had to show me how painful it was to let go by being forced to do so. You watched as I experienced one of my greatest fears magnified more than I imagined. The reflection I saw of myself in the mirror changed to be unrecognizable. I am changed. So God, as I find myself bowing at my self-erected altar, I know that I should simply be content with expressing gratitude. But God, I am human and in my humanness I need to make requests of You. God, please help me to look at my reflection and see that the reason I no longer see myself is because I see You in me. God, remind me that in facing one of my greatest fears I have found one of my greatest victories over Satan. Please teach me to let go more freely knowing it all rests in Your hand anyway. Heavenly Father please teach me not to fear, but to trust in You. Teach me to jump. Teach me that sometimes I will fall, but in falling I experience what it feels like to be caught in Your arms. Take my mess and make it my message. Take my brokenness and replace it with boldness. So God, before I rise from this altar of remembrance, help me to look to the future. For in this year of brokenness and pain, You bestowed upon me a great gift. You have given me Your dream for my life. My Great Tailor has gathered all my messy broken threads and begun to use them to weave a beautiful tapestry. It sure looks like a mess to me right now, but You promise to make it my message. You allowed the pain in order to give me purpose. God, in the past year You have taught me what it feels like to fall. Could you take me now and teach me to fly? Even if it's with a broken wing? I have caught glimpses of what it could be like soaring in the sunset uplifted by the breeze of Your love and grace. God, teach me to dream this dream that came from You. Help me to give the comfort You have given me to others. And God, before I go....I love You. |
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