Love Wild

Something is brewing big in this heart of mine.  Something wild and untamed.  Something that cries for more of God and more of His love and to just BE love in the midst of all. this. chaos.  Such a mess we are, this world.

Two weeks have passed and still I pray.  What would you have me do, Lord?  What would you have US do?  The thoughts that rush through this skull of mine cannot be stilled.  Yet Satan is fighting back.  Fear lingers.

All these ideas, these plans, these small pieces that Christ is placing where they are needed; what is He leading us to?  While we wait and listen, we know that HE knows what He is preparing us for.  

And Satan, He whispers lies.  You cannot do this.  Who do you think you are to take on something like this?  Remember that gal who fights anger?  She will return.  Besides that, you will be so uncomfortable!  You will lose so much of the little free-time you have.  And your precious children - can't you just imagine how this will this affect them?

My 2-year-old, he has had a fear for most of his short life.  Chubby little hands gripping slices of apple, peering at the red skin, pretending all of the things his toddler-mind could think-up about what the apple peel would do to him.  Then proceeding to eat only the meat, he would leave a rind of apple peel much like a small watermelon slice.

For two years I have watched his little routine and chuckled.  Yet a couple of weeks ago, I decided I was done cleaning dried apple rinds out of his carseat, and decided to begin the battle with him.

"Seth,"  I said from the front seat of the van.  "Today I want you to eat ALL of the apple.  Eat the red part, too."  He is a redhead.  He is stubborn.  So even as I heard his little "Ok, momma," compliance is not what was expected.

Minutes later, I parked the van and turned to see the progress he was making.  The apples were gone, every last bite, every piece of peel.  He handed me an empty bag and grinned that cheeky, dimple-filled smile to show how proud he was of his accomplishment.  As easy as that, he conquered his fear.  It was only the anticipation that stopped him.

So here I am, fighting against my own peel.  I am so scared of it.  I cannot fathom what is waiting if I eat it all, and so, I continue to eat only the stuff that looks good.

Yet isn't the anticipation always the worst part?  While I listen to Satan's deception, I imagine all of the negative consequences; I can so clearly see all of the things that could go wrong.  It is debilitating.  It stops me from obedience.  It will keep me from living wildly.  It is the reasoning of the human mind, not of Christ.  And it will never allow me to live the full life.

Didn't I promise my God that I wanted to follow Him?  Really follow Him?  For if I claim to follow Him, I must live as Jesus did.  Christ, He lived big and He lived wild and He lived uninhibited. He lived LOVE.  He did not sacrifice just in death.  He sacrificed in life.

We are praying, Lord.  We are crying out to you and we are quaking in our boots.  But we are ready for this life unrestrained.  Show us what you are calling our family to.  The love of Christ compels us!

Beauty for Ashes

Tears have certainly been shed today as I consider this part of the story God has written over my life.  I am indescribably thankful.  Glory to His name!!

Humbled by your reading just a portion of God's work in me, for truly, He has needed to do much more in me than just this.  You can find it here.

Hero

 In our Easter garden this day, all is dark, just as the world was on that Friday so many years ago.  The tomb is now inhabited and a stone covers it's entry.  Silence.

Sweet 2-year-old voice plays in my head.  Big blue eyes that see with such depth and express thought in that perfect way that only a toddler can.

"Look, mommy, he's a hero!"

Yes, baby, he is THE hero.

We wait in anticipation, for death does not have the victory today.

The Choice

Oh Lord God.  To find thanks in my trial... this is so hard, Father. To be joyful for this?  This gnashing of teeth, these anger-filled words, this moment of screaming so loud that my voice catches, breaks.  And little ones, Father.  Six precious eyes so big, gazing, gaping wide.  Lips protruding with quivers.  They are still, those bodies that wriggle and squirm and run all day, they are still.  Silent.

And yet, to find thanks for tears falling, too?  Not theirs, but mine. Such guilt.  Such shame.  Huge, gushing drops falling so fast I can't count them.  But You do, Lord.  You know their number.  Do you love me so much, even now?  Even when Ugly comes and leaves nothing but silence in it's wake?

The tears... falling and falling and perhaps never stopping.  Cascading onto pancakes flipping, eggs tossed on plates.  And little
voices whispering, their tiny sounds breaking the silence of worry, of fear.  "Momma, are you done cryin'?"

And still, you ask thanks, for their Daddy's absence at just such a time?  The man who would take spatula from sobbing wife and feed hungry mouths and allow me escape.  Tenderness calming fears, strong arms enfolding, gentle quietness speaking more than words.

Yet even now, you show me.  Joyful thanks for wholehearted amazement.  For lessons of reliance on my God, not the spatula-wielding, child-feeding man.  For humility, for don't I often pray that prayer?  For tender hearts that probe my heart and cry out for me to seek what I most desire.

What YOU most desire.  Not life defeated, a crumpled mess on a cold, hard floor.  To live, Lord.  To live with depth.  For eyes that see Truth.  Clarity.  The old victory over this anger, it was but one battle.  A big one, perhaps.  Yet You gently smile and nod your head.  A layer, my dear.  Just a layer.  I long to take you deeper still.  

Grasping tightly, I am ready.  So much gratitude for wherever You take me, Lord.  I am ready, only with You.