Having lunch outside a friend’s house today, I engaged in conversation but my ears were tuned in elsewhere. I kept hearing the planes I couldn’t see doing various loops over our city. Knowing my husband was elsewhere to take photographs of these kept taking my heart to where he was, to wonder what he was seeing, to wonder what he was feeling?
We were of one flesh; I could understand that in these moments. Not as easy sometimes when we shared the same space. It was a question I was curious to ask the “Big Guy” when I had the chance.
Meanwhile, I sat in my chair loving those around me, while wanting to be with the one who loved me as his wife.
A strange occurrence has come from those on the “outside looking in” on my life. Too often I get comments about what a “woman of God” I am. I actually fear any day I would say, “yep I’ve arrived into that calling”. I never want to deceive myself into that kind of prideful thinking.
I suspect my “outside” observers would be surprised to hear the truth in my heart and from my own journal…”I feel like a stumbling fool before You God, where I keep reaching up my hand to say ‘Daddy please, will You help me up yet again'”.
And He does.
A simple note on my keyboard touching deep into the heart of my understanding, I added more notes to it. I didn’t write it down or record it. Some songs are too personal. I’ve never pretended to be a musician but I loved playing for my Father. My thoughts were drawn again to the deep calling out to the deep. I know my simple notes touch His heart. In those quiet places, I love playing for Him alone.
Grace…a word, a concept, a reality, a truth. While I tried to recover my balance, I bent over to hold my heart together. Grace finds goodness in everything. Meanwhile I looked at my bruises and held myself still so the aches wouldn’t crumple me to the floor. Grace offered me composure, but I reached for the tissues to soak up the tears I’d offer to its beauty. My brokenness left me feeling exposed and I opened the door wider to the truth of it all. Grace overflowed more through this open access. I quit fighting, weary of holding myself up, and finally laid down….drowning in a flood of grace.
“Are you ready?” A question I’ve been asked thousands of times in my life. This question hit my heart this morning with an understanding I’ve never felt before. I could see myself in a uniform but it was ill fitting. My supplies were scattered and in disarray. My orders were smudged and the destination not clear on my paperwork. I fell to my knees knowing this outer image was all wrong.
Raising my hands I cried to the heavens….”make me ready because I can’t do it myself”. A shift happened. I was stripped of my uniform and my supplies were vanquished. I was naked and in tears but I wore no shame; just a revelation of my great need. A piece of paper floated down from the sky and I reached out to catch it. I could clearly read the destination now….”You Are Mine”…
As I reflect upon my husband, I am taken into the awe and wonder of God. In thinking about our ages and where we were in time, I begin to realize we were looking at ocean waves breaking onto shores continents apart. The waves may have been different, but the sun and moon were always the same.
I never found a note in a bottle, but I was always searching the horizon for promises. He was but one of the promises to be found.
Too deep! It goes too deep!
We all have those places where the emotions cut into the veins of our existence and suddenly we go weak and falter for what we should speak. My life is being rebuilt day in and day out in these areas. What will I say? What can I say? How much of me will I expose? How much of my life will I give away?
My recognition of being rebuilt is only the beginning of what our Lord is doing in all of us. I know I am a temple of His presence but I need Him to be my foundation. Taking me back down to a foundational level is not comfortable. It exposes all my weaknesses.
Isa 44:28b ‘He is my shepherd and will accomplish all that I please; he will say of Jerusalem, “Let it be rebuilt,” and of the temple, “Let its foundations be laid.”‘
Upon awakening I was aware of my calves feeling tight. My muscles had been stretched for a couple days. Reaching my hands out I could feel the bed was empty. It was time to get up. Putting my feet to the floor I quickly remembered the various cuts from stepping all over some glass the night before. Limping about, I found my husband doing chores already in the kitchen.
I went back to our bedroom, desiring some quiet reading. I opened my bible but when I tried to read, they were just words on the page. Laying my head on my pillow I felt naked. It was as if my spiritual covering had vanished in the night. I’d felt this before and I hated these moments.
A war began in my head. I had made a commitment to pray with folks for healing, but how could I pray for them if I couldn’t pray for myself? Maybe no one would notice that I didn’t show up? Lies shot at me like a rapid fire machine gun for how I wasn’t sanctified enough to pray for anyone. I could hear my accuser remind me of the multitude of my sins and weaknesses.
I looked at the clock again and realized I was missing my window of time. It was now or never for what I needed to do. I hobbled into the bathroom and turning on the shower I began confessing once more how ill equipped I was to do anything. My Lord reminded me I didn’t need my strength, just His.
Once dressed, I could feel my stomach rumble a protest that I wasn’t feeding it. I talked to my husband briefly and he was sensitive to pray for me. I packed a bottle of water in my bag and headed out the door. My feet had to go where I didn’t feel worthy to walk. Obedience beckoned me again.
What would I do?
Faith by definition is to gamble on what you can’t see but hope for (plain speak).
I look at that question again….”what would I do for my faith?”
I am only living my own version of such a walk but I have shelves of books for how others before me gave all for faith. I admit to growing weary of words and long for my own actions but then I tremble at the reality of thought…..”do I really mean it?”