Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Wish I could sleep...

Why is it so difficult for brokenhearted people to admit they are hurting, for me to say I'm hurting? Why is there a need to put up a front, a facade, and declare to the world that we're fine? What impression does the tough girl image really give off anyways, that I'm strong and confident, persistent, moved by nothing and able to handle anything? If they look a little closer, won't they see right through me?

Do I think God doesn't see through it? Doesn't He know me in all of my frailty, all my weakness? Then why can't I say I need to talk to You?

I'm not sure if I'm scared He'll yell at me or be angry with me, disown me or get fed up and quit listening to me after I throw out a million excuses for why I've been just so. Part of me wishes He'd yell at me. Maybe then I'd get so upset and flustered that it'd all come spilling out and I'd say everything I need to say. Maybe then I'd feel like He actually cared, was still after me. But how often does it really work like that?

Even if we are in the same room, I can't seem to say anything, can't even look at Him. I can't look at the tears roll down His face. I'm not seeing His pain, not seeing how much His heart is broken over my broken heart. I don't see how much it hurts Him for me to think He doesn't care, to run farther and faster with that thought pushing me. He would cry with me if I let Him. He would wrap me up in His arms if I let Him. No matter how far I go, He will always welcome me home.

Maybe all I have to do is knock, look at Him when the door opens, run, and fall in His arms.

Now for the courage. It's going to be a long night.

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

Scene

You quietly knock on the door and listen for that strong but gentle voice to answer. Watching you stand frozen in the doorway, He beckons you to come in and sit down. Once you get past greetings and small talk, He asks you what you came to see Him for, mentions that you haven't been around in a while. He knows something's wrong and wants you to tell Him all of what's on your mind. Eyes lowered and voice low, blinking back tears, you try to verbalize all that you've repeatedly rehearsed in your head and utter a few words, then pause. You can't think of anything to say. All you've come up with is a list of pitiful excuses, excuses that don't really explain anything and make you feel worse as you go along. You know you should start over with an apology for everything - running off, being distant - but in your mind that won't even chip the ice. After stumbling halfway through a few sentences, you do apologize, for being a bother. And quickly, you get up and leave.

End scene.

What do you do? What do you say? What do I do?

I'm so glad God is patient and shows me grace everyday, especially today.

I love Robbie Seay Band: In my darkest night You brighten up the sky. A song will rise. I will sing a song of hope, sing along, God of heaven come down, heaven come down. Just to know that You are near is enough. God of heaven come down, heaven come down. Oh, sing a song of hope, sing along, God of heaven come down, heaven come down. Just to know You and be loved is enough. God of heaven come down, heaven come down, yeah.

To know that He is near...

Talk to you soon, friend.

Sunday, September 16, 2007

Grace to trust You more, be so much more than enough

How many times has this been the cry of my heart? I have a feeling this is my answer. Never promised to answer the way I wished, did He?

When you ask God for patience, does He grant you more patience, or an opportunity to be patient? God wants to do in your life what your mind has never conceived.

Apparently, He answers requests of faith and satisfaction that way as well. And maybe the latter reason is why.

Christ does not always immediatley calm the storm, but He is always willing to calm His child on the basis of His presence. "If I continue to let the storm swell, it is because I want you to see me walk on the water." - Beth Moore

You race to meet me and bring me back to life. I'm looking.

Thursday, September 13, 2007

Sweet Sleep

After a sleepless night fueled by a restless spirit and running imagination, the morning greeted me with this:

Give to the wind your fears. Hope and be undismayed. God hears your sighs and counts your tears. God will lift up your head. - Jars of Clay

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Paul prays this prayer for the Ephesians: I pray that out of His glorious riches He may strengthen you with power through His Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge - that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. Now to Him who is able to do immesurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us, to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever! Amen.

If the test is to strengthen my faith in Christ, grow in the understanding of His love and know what David meant when he said my cup overflows, is it worth it? If I gain nothing but a closer walk with Him, receive His love in every situation, is it worth it? If all that He has is nothing I ask or imagine but it brings Him glory, is it worth it?

Tough questions. Something to think about.

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

What the Crap?

So yesterday...

Him: Ok. What else? What's up?
Me: Nothin, that's it.
Him: What's with the defensive posture?
Me: This is not defensive posture.
Him: Then why are your knees pulled up in front of your chest, protecting your vital organs? If I put you in front of a wall, you'd be ready for a tornado drill.
Me: That's not funny.
Him: I didn't say it was...

Still hasn't rained, no flood. A couple of sprinkles though, brief, few and far between.

Music: ...today I feel like I'm just one mistake away from You leaving me this way. Jesus can You show me just how far the east is from the west...

Monday, September 10, 2007

Drought

I'm just waiting for the waterworks. It's about time for a flood. I can see the clouds lining up.

Song today: What if I ignored the hand that fed me? What if I forgot to confess? What if I stumbled down that mountain? Then would You love me less? Would You love me less? What if I were everyone's last choice? What if I mixed in with the rest? What if I failed what I passed before? Then would You love me less? Lord, would You love me less? You say I belong to You apart from the things I do. I'm in awe of why You do.

Place your ear against the chest of the Savior so that, when troubled times come, you may not know what will befall you, but you can hear the steady pulse of the boundless love of Him who holds you. - Beth Moore

Talk to you soon, friend.

Sunday, September 9, 2007

Boxes

I was praying for you and some other friends a couple of days ago. I made it through the list, all except for one name, the last person. Me.

I don't know why it's this way, but often times it's so much easier to pray for others, to believe God for other people, than it is to ask Him for something for me. It's much worse when we're not on the best terms, but I have that problem even when we're best friends. And it's not with everything, just some things.

God can bring healing to a friend's sick body, provide rest for another, come through and let situations work out for yet another. And I know He can do those very same things for me. But a lot of times, our conversations go like this:

Me: Hey Poppa.
Him: Hey honey. How was your day?
Me: Oh, You know...
Him: Yeah? Well, what's up?
Me: Would you be with x, y and z and do this for them...
Him: No problem. Anything else, dear one?
Me: ...No...
Him: What's the matter? Are you forgetting that I see your heart?

I can take God out of the box and watch Him do miracles all around me. So why stuff Him back in when it comes to me?

I know, He just wants me to tell Him. Pray that I tell Him, soon.

Wednesday, September 5, 2007

My Father Sings Over Me

I've told you before that one of my favorite things to see is dads who are in love with their little girls. The end of Sam's story, remember? You said it was cute. Anyways, I love to watch them together, whether it's a dad sitting across from his 8-year-old daughter at the Indian restaurant or the two following each other down aisles at Barnes&Noble.

Listening to the radio this morning got me thinking about what a great Dad God is and how amazing it is that He is our Father. Susan was talking about all the things we are to Him - precious, friend, beautiful, adopted, beloved, chosen, favored, the list goes on. He takes delight in us, rejoices over us with singing. And His pursuit of us is relentless and active. All around, if we look, the evidence screams that He wants us to know in our heart these things and wants a relationship with us.

Even when we're rotten kids, when I'm a rotten kid. When I'm a spoiled little brat and throw a huge tantrum and slam doors in a fit of rage and frustration and disappointment, He still calls me His precious daughter. Even when I give Him the silent treatment, He still loves me. And no matter what I do, what foolishness I get into, He tells me everyday.

EVERYDAY.

I still upset Him, I'm sure. I do things that bug the crap out of Him, frustrate Him to no end, disappoint Him. But that doesn't change who He says I am or who I am to Him. I think if He were human, He might have disowned me by now.

Maybe He sings different songs on different days, depending on how we're doing, how things are going between us. If we're stressed out and busy, maybe He sings to us to be quiet now and rest. If we're distant and doubting, upset and hurting, maybe He sings that He's always loved us and always will, that we belong to Him apart from the things we do, that He is near.

Even if we've had an argument and I've gone to bed angry, I am so glad He still comes to the door, looks in on me and softly sings.

Me singing today: Broken in two, Lord I know You're on to me, that I only come home when I'm so all alone, but I do believe. And not everything is gonna be the way you think it ought to be. It seems like every time I try to make it right it all comes down on me. Please say honestly You won't give up on me, and I shall believe.

Talk to you soon, friend.