The Waiting

There are times I don't even have to seek the quiet place; instead I am thrust in forcefully. Right now the rain is pattering out a sleepy song on the road, and the cars slur the sound as they drive through. Eben is protesting naptime in his bed, but his complaints are getting intermittent. The girls are downstairs watching Angelina Ballerina and I'm at the computer listening to Amanda Falk sing 'I will Exalt' for the second time.

I have moments of despair when I think about how many times I have asked for more of God and I still feel left with only a handful. Or less. He is growing me slowly, surely, and quietly. My foundations are being relaid stone by stone, and my heart is being enlarged beat by beat. It seems so normal though. So sweet and peaceful. Submission is an art, and once the initial sacrifice is made, all that needs to be done is just the waiting. For the breaking, the reforming, the brushstroke.

I reminded Jesus today of how many years I have been asking for personal encounter with Him. Face to face, visions, whatever. Just anything beyond intellectual experience. If it comes down to obedience, then I'll do that. I'll trust and keep on. Keep going. But I'm aware that the better thing lies down the garden path, through the gates, and at His feet. In His arms. In the dance.

I can't get this song out of my head, and while I sit at the computer moping, these are the words I hear:

Your Presence is all I need 
It’s all I want, all I seek 
Without it, without it there’s no meaning 
Your Presence is the air I breathe 
The song I sing, the love I need 
Without it, without it I’m not living 


I will exalt You, Lord, I will exalt You, Lord 
There is no one like You God 
I will exalt You, Lord, I will exalt You, Lord 
No other name be lifted high 


There will be no one like You 
And no one beside You 
You alone are worthy of all praise 
There will be no one like You 
And no one beside You 
You alone are worthy of all praise

My thoughts are not me

Thinking has long been associated with existence, (Descartes), but I think we are constantly associating it with identity. Existing is not the same as Being.

In a society that values tolerance and acceptance, the ability to have healthy discussion has almost been obliterated. Long ago Britain used the Trivium method in the public education system, which is a three part approach that begins with grammar, proceeds to logic and ends in rhetoric. After teaching reading, writing and 'rithmatic, children were taught how to think and question on their own. Of course, they threw out the system when they realized the consequences of teaching a culture to question.

Today we are not taught 'how' to think, we are taught 'what' to think. Our society has thrown out God, so instead we are given a set of moral absolutes and told not to question. If we question, we are bad. Religious, racist, bigoted, narrow-minded, immoral, liberal, conservative...depending on who is using the label. ;) No one accepts questions because discussion is not allowed. Because we have made discussion unpleasant.

Opinion is just a conclusion that we have made religious. When I say religious, I mean there is faith, passion and conviction behind it. It is extremely hard to argue against opinion. Each conclusion that we have arrived at has taken at least some logical or emotional process to form, but the problem is that we are afraid that if our conclusion is questioned, it is a reflection on us.

And it is, at least to a point. Our conclusions are a reflection of our logic, our ability to reason, how we feel, our perspective, our family and our culture. Unfortunately because of the values of our society and our educational system, a very large portion of our conclusions are based primarily on our own experiences and feelings. Since our culture fears questions and process, no one has to change. No one grows.

I stated some of my thoughts on Facebook last week and was disagreed with. This really threw me. I guess I've gotten in the habit of only sharing my conclusions and process with safe people. All of a sudden, all I wanted was to be accepted and valued. This wasn't about opinion anymore. It was about identity.

Can I be me even though you may think differently than I? Am I still valuable? Do my thoughts matter? Does what Jesus says about me remain even though someone else disagrees?

I think this is the big question; 'Who am I outside of my conclusions and decisions?'

My thoughts are not me; they are a product of me. As I submit myself to questions and to His thoughts, my thoughts change. He is speaking to the real me, and He sees bigger and better than I. Opinion keeps me unmovable. Conclusion keeps me safe.  Where He is usually requires walking on water, and that's where I want to be.

Caught

A ballerina picks a spot to focus on while doing a pirouette. With every turn she sees that spot, and it keeps her from getting dizzy and she maintains balance. My moments of escape are that for me. As long as I keep my eyes held by His, the spinning of life and the intimidation of the enemy fade. 

Something I read in the book Prophetic Wisdom by Graham Cooke today;

     The goal of God is to bring us to a place where we abide in Christ, where we get our needs met by Him, and where we can help meet the needs of others. He wants to be at the pinnacle of our giftings and callings, so that we can find Him in whatever is happening around us. It shouldn't matter how much the enemy spins us around; if our heart is fixed on God, we are immediately focused on Him. When this happens, the Church is going to grow up. We'll live by the Book. We won't question the will of God because we will be in relationship with Him. 

Honest Moments

Ever get that feeling of panic that rises up your throat like acid? I just did as I ascended the stairs to escape my kids. I didn't quite make it in time, because I yelled "WHAT!!" when Providence whined/asked a "Mom?" for the sixth time looking for a pair of clean jeans.

I think something is wrong with me. I don't have unending patience. And when I think I do, I crack faster. Susannah Wesley used to throw her apron over her head in her moments of stress to pray. I need something like that...so I rush to my room and lock the door.

I may not have unending patience but I have Jesus. It seems unfathomably hard sometimes to sweep up crumbs, deal with gross kids, and even harder to explain to them how not to be gross. Micaiah loves to do things on her own, but today I had to explain to her that only Mommy or Daddy should try to use the plunger to unclog the toilet. Seriously. At least with my dramatic firstborn, I get informed that the water is rising in the moment.

So I run. Becomes sometimes, many times, even a couple times an hour...I can't deal. I lock the door and turn some great worship music on and shut myself into my heart with the other Person that lives in me. He soothes my soul, calms my nervous tics, and gives me a fresh jolt of Him.

Back to the fray...

A Hymn

You burned my desolation to the ground and salvaged my heart.

You cracked my foundation, turned back time and planted a garden for your pleasure.

Instead of sorrow, you give me passion. My tears are stored in your heart.

 My submission is lovely to you, and my yearning for you hastens your touch.

Barrenness attracts you, because your desire is for me. Fill me with you.

May my heart shatter with your goodness.

I am bereft without your presence; satisfy me with your sweetness.

There is nothing beside you. Its just you and I.

Teach me to dance, and my lips and my feet will never stop singing the music of you.