Tears

The Lord bids us to tears that He may wipe them
gently, softly as our Father
tenderly loving us in Jesus our Savior
fingers shaking
heart breaking
let it be done
cleaving to Jesus your Son
my only hope, prayer tonight
Jesus grant me vision to see the light.

Home

Wind whistling. There is cold outside
now there is rest inside. Calm listening.
I rush toward a future I don't even know
thinking I can control, leading with desire
rooted in demand.
Lord, I desire warmth, comfort, ease, simplicity.
These are gifts I expect you to give me.
Closed doors mean cold, frustrating anger.
Confusion, chaos, hurt, hunger.
So beautiful these gift, promised in your word to me.
To hurt fasting and praying, hoping, wondering
stir within me a force by grace let it be toward you first
Knowing that you, Father, grant us grace to lead with desire,
rooted in acceptance.

Rain

It's raining. The cool water makes me curl with delight. I wanted to feel cold, washed over with peace, but the rain clung to my feet as a reminder that gratefulness is not a natural profession of my heart. Inside, things are safer, hot tea, light chatter, coffee brewing, pages turning. Outside is motion, people enduring the rain as a means to get where they want to go. No dancing, no twirling, just motion. Movement in the sun is frantic, energetic. Movement right now is driven, purposeful, subdued.

The reflection saves me from looking, hoping that I could find solace in still being noticed. People passing by, pausing to take notice of what I am doing, like I matter to them, like they are concerned for me. Are you happy? Are you enjoying your job? Is there anything I can pray for you about? Dialogue that gives motion to work, movement in mission, connecting souls that give me the opportunity to sacrifice. That's the point I can rest in, whether I feel like I'm being selfless.

Shame

I started singing. Revealing, exposing myself through each breathe. The notes were broken, desperate. I tried to flex a muscle that didn't exist- confidence. Love me. Please. Why are you mocking me? He was embarrassed of my clear ignorance of the cost of renting a sound booth. I left hollow. One tap and I'd crack. Not soon after, he was annoyed at my attempt to control him. shattered. "He doesn't even like you. we made out last week." he knew and yet he failed to mention it.

"Harmony sounded off today". idolatry. I so badly wanted to be viewed as the wiser, older, powerful one. nope. exposed as someone who so desperately did everything to have control over everything. failed. by grace.

that look. I knew I had begun in the wrong key but it was too late. I kept singing, horrified at myself as the worship leader looked panicked. I saw his face. Why don't you look on me with affection. IS NOT THIS A PROMISE!? to have guys pursing me!? no. in fact the promises of the Father are deeper, stronger, more meaningful. He has promised me more yet I am stuck shaking my fist for something that is evidence of grace. closed doors. a gift. thank you, Father.

dirty hands

Sitting with hands together at church, singing, listening, smelling
Mold, from the sponge I used earlier to clean dishes.
Trying to impress a friend with hard work, service, food.
Efforts, trying to earn love and constantly manipulating
Trying to prove myself as strong, powerful, humble
Disgusting. I wanted to smell something else.
Holding, grasping my hands, the Father looks at me
Sees His Son and I am cleared of my sin.
Nothing I have done, His Son's blood.
Tenderly, He holds my hands as I confess
Repenting of these futile, selfish attempts at challenging your standard.

Relief

Start here. Start where it feels natural to pour out my whys, my whens, my whattheheckamievendoings. I process these thoughts with wary relief. I am learning to reject the constant need to build, buy, consume and it feels like when I am back it all returns. The constant self-improvement, the perfection, the exhaustion, the overwhelming sense of lost control, it's gripping the life from my soul and I want so badly to be free. The resurrection from the dead holds power over the finality that used to be my fate. There is such joy and grace, confidence and hope in the name of Jesus. My Savior and King who paid it all. There is no other name by which I am free, by which I am saved, Jesus I beg you now to declare to my soul like David said to God in Psalm 35 "Say to my soul, 'I am your salvation!'" How glorious a statement to comfort my exhausted soul. I need my Savior, I need His calm, loving, gentle words to hold my broken heart. What a glorious hope that is not seen. What a gift!

I am afraid.

I am terrified. What does that even mean? petrify, horrify, frighten. Essentially, extreme fear of something. aaaand that about nails it. WHAT AM I EVEN DOING? This week has felt arduously long and a painful reminder of how lame I am. I don't have the courage to ask God these things because I feel like I am talking to the ceiling. CANT YOU FIX ME? why do these feelings of anger, resentment, pride, selfishness, onandonandon the list goes of things I see in my life that are devastating the relationships I have here. They are so kind and so patient and I am so far from that. Open Letter to God, please help me. please save me from myself. save me from my pride and horrible anger that transforms beautiful friendships into devastating messes from the whirling dervish that is my sin.