23

Friday, November 19th, 2010

It’s one of those days that the space around my heart feels smaller than normal. Soul claustrophobia if you will. The pressures of life, the disappointments, the yet-to-be-fulfilled hopes all crowding around, wanting attention, shouting with noisy fanfare. I breathe a little deeper on purpose, hoping the extra air in my lungs will dispel the pressure, but it bounces right back into place when I exhale. My eyes have a twinge of a burning feeling, and the waterworks are ready to burst at a moment’s notice. They haven’t yet. Key word is, yet. I’m not especially distraught or discouraged…mostly just tired. Tired of trying to make progress in this area or that and feeling like there is resistance the whole way. Not the kind of resistance that makes you turn around and give up…but the kind of resistance that simultaneously makes you feel like you’re on a noble quest, but you’re not seeing the results you want right in front of you. Like a fish swimming upstream. They’ve got to get there some way, somehow. But I bet those fishes get tired.

Anyway. I don’t mean to whine. Life is really good in so many ways. I just haven’t learned how to let the waves roll over the rocks and smooth them out. Or. I guess the waves are rolling over and smoothing me out, I’m just not smooth yet. I’m really thankful for the people in my life that hold me still and close when I feel all jumbled up. Husband. Thats you. Friends…there are a few of you. Jesus. Oh yes, Jesus. You hold me close and still. Help me stop thrashing about and just listen. I want to listen. Here I am.

22

Tuesday, November 16th, 2010

I’m just an ordinary girl with an extraordinary love growing inside my veteran heart. Been to war and back again, and though a million pieces once lay broken and estranged from each other, love drew them together and began stitching, healing, restoring. Yes, I’m just an ordinary girl. But now that I’m filled with the Spirit of the Living God, now that my lungs are filled with the breath of the One who gives life, I am extraordinary. It’s not the things I do or the things I don’t do that make me so, for truly, I do not do what I wish to do, and so far, I’ve failed at trying to not do the things I shouldn’t. It’s not my efforts that have transported me from brokenness to joy. It’s my surrender. That’s all. He takes my surrender which is something akin to tilled soil, pours out His Spirit, and shines His glory over me.

Beauty. Such beauty. His, not mine, but what a delight to reflect it back to Him with a grateful heart. It’s a wonder that with the grace He gives, I often cannot give grace to myself or others. It’s a wonder that with the patience He has, I so easily lose mine. It’s a wonder that He is a perfect model of humility, and still I’m slow to put my pride away from me.

Yes, He took the broken pieces of my heart and began stitching them back together. Inside out. The inside things are now on the outside, and it’s much tougher to ignore them. My eyes have seen His glory…born in humility, servant of all, perfect in holiness. He is the inside out, upside down God. He cares not for appearances, stature, or fame. He is smitten with the simple heart that comes and declares their dependence on Him. It’s simple, but not easy.

2 Peter 1

²Grace and peace be multiplied to you in the knowledge of God and of Jesus our Lord;

Multiply grace and peace in my life, Lord! Keep repairing my defective heart, stitching with precision and intention, and teaching me more about Your heart. I long to please You, to be a delight and a joy to You in everything. Keep turning me upside down and inside out, shaking loose and clearing away my fallen, sinful nature. Give me a new heart, a new mind, a new way of navigating life. Giving instead of taking. Serving instead of consuming. Blessing others instead of wasting the time and talents you’ve given me.

³seeing that His divine power has granted to us everything pertaining to life and godliness, through the true knowledge of Him who called us by His own glory and excellence.

Why do I feel poor, Lord, when I am infinitely rich in you? Get behind me Satan. I will not believe that I am deficient. I will not believe that I am not able (with Christ who strengthens me). I will not believe that I am not the very apple of the Father’s eye. His favorite. His beloved one. I am His daughter, and heir to His magnificent kingdom. You have granted me everything, Lord. All You require is my humble, surrendered heart, and I am here to give it to You. Every day.

⁴For by these He has granted to us His precious and magnificent promises, so that by them you may become partakers of the divine nature, having escaped the corruption that is in the world by lust.

To apprehend His precious and magnificent promises, I must escape the corruption of my soul. Blessing cannot be recognized in the midst of sin. We hide away, close our eyes, close our hearts, and cut off the pathway of blessing so that it cannot reach us. Help me, Lord. Help me live openly, honestly, authentically, with eyes and heart open to all that You have for me.

⁵Now for this very reason also, applying all diligence, in your faith supply moral excellence, and in your moral excellence, knowledge, ⁶and in your knowledge, self-control, and in your self-control, perseverance, and in your perseverance, godliness, ⁷and in your godliness, brotherly kindness, and in your brotherly kindness, love.

These are the things I long for You to grow in me: excellence in my character, knowledge of Your holiness, humility and self-control, perseverance through every tough day, diligence in doing good, kindness in my speech and love in every action.

⁸For if these qualities are yours and are increasing, they render you neither useless nor unfruitful in the true knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ.

May I never be useless or unfruitful. May I never waste the days You’ve given.

⁹For he who lacks these qualities is blind or short-sighted, having forgotten his purification from his former sins.

Let me never forget where You have brought me from, or the kindness which You have shown to me, undeserved. Don’t let me be blind or short-sighted and miss the beauty of what You have.

¹⁰Therefore, brethren, be all the more diligent to make certain about His calling and choosing you; for as long as you practice these things, you will never stumble; ¹¹for in this way the entrance into the eternal kingdom of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ will be abundantly supplied to you.

Help me be diligent, Lord, by reminding me of Your truth. Hour by hour, minute by minute. I long to be with You in Your Kingdom.

21

Tuesday, November 16th, 2010

If it’s even the slightest bit messy, I begin to panic and freeze up. I’m not talking about my house, mind you. Messy spaces don’t really get me worked up. Neither do messy hearts, I’m good with those. But messy art…more specifically, my messy art, now that is a problem. In one respect, there is no such thing as messy art as it relates to me, because if it’s even borderline messy, I guarantee you haven’t seen it. I probably didn’t even finish it because two minutes in, I didn’t like where it was going and I quit. If it comes by the stroke of my paintbrush or pen or keyboard, perfection is expected at once. I have no mercy for the smudges outside the lines, or the jumbled mess of words that carry my heart but don’t do it the way I want them to. Like I said, I freeze up and the authenticity, the creativity, the truth are prevented from coming out the way they should. The truth is terribly uncomfortable. It might be quick on my tongue but translating it to written words is tough for me. I’ve spent all my life practicing to smooth out the rough edges, even when the edges are not smoothable. But still I try to. It’s just a little more comfortable to write the spiritual things. The wise things. The well-crafted essay. But what about the honest one?

I’m really skilled at hiding. I have a gift for masterfully covering my faults so no one else can see them, and so I can easily forget them or pretend like they are not there. It’s a wonder to me that my art would become a mirror of sorts. A mirror and a frustration. I’ve grown tired of managing my image, so to speak. I’m tired of holding a garden hose in one hand and gripping a kink in the hose with my other. The water ain’t comin’ out if I’m so terribly concerned about what others think of me that I won’t share the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. What’s more, the water won’t come out if I don’t turn on the faucet…which means I have to find a way to actually sit down and write instead of stockpiling the topics that are on my heart and waiting to write about them because I haven’t written on my blog in a while and it doesn’t look great to return to a stale blog without something poignant to write. Confession, that’s what I’ve been doing. Yes, I’m busy too, but not too busy for the truth. Not too busy to learn how to lay myself down so that God can be glorified in me. Not too busy to record the important things He is teaching me in this season of my life. I must do it. So here goes. Look for number 22 very soon.