One of These Days

What good is it for a man to gain the whole world, yet forfeit his soul?

-Mark 8:36

One of these days, I’m going to get it right. I’m going to say the right things, I’m going to wear the right clothes, I’m going to be just enough and catch someone’s stare. One of these days I’m going to think before I speak, watch how I walk, and remember to be poised, shy and graceful. That’s how I’m expected to be, how I must be perceived. Because the woman with her head up and the spring in her step gains the most opportunity and attraction, and the world pools around her manicured fingertips.

            I’m a little rough around the edges, a little blunt and brash and wear a little too much plaid. So what? It can be fixed. I can be remedied. I am a fast learner and can be trained to turn heads. It may feel a bit awkward, and my heart may knock around my ribcage with uncertainty, but if I forge ahead, ignore my conscious and squelch my soul, maybe then I’ll be noticed. Maybe then, I will feel wanted and witty and every morsel that my deepest dreams can only conjure up. I will finally have a voice and a vision.

            Or will I?

            What will I gain gaining the whole world while losing my soul? While losing the nuances and nit-picky traits that make me, me? Yes, I want to be known, I want to be chosen and whispered about when I walk down the street. I may crave that in the shadows of my daydreams, but I don’t really need to. I’m already worth eternity in the eyes of my Beloved.

            There is a man who always loves me. Who always thinks nothing but the very best of my very worst and proudly shows me off to all of His friends. Jesus sees me, the whole of me, the crooked and crazy pieces that somehow fit together and create my being. He knows every detail of my skin, every freckle, every scar, and before I even took one ragged breath from my lungs, He chose me. Knowing who I was, knowing what I would do. Knowing that I would end up hurting Him. But He brought me to life, anyway. And as I timidly move through crowds, head down and fingers crossed, He turns to His angels and whispers to them, “See that one there? The one with the cute flyaway hair and wrinkled, plaid shirt? That’s HER. That’s the one I’ve been telling you about! Isn’t she beautiful?” And the angels murmur among each other, swiftly nodding their heads in agreement.

            I have all of heaven looking upon me in wonder. Why in the world would I want to be looking anywhere else for my worth?

            One of these days I’m going to remember Who gives me my grace. One of these days I’m going to glow with it. Maybe, one of these days is today.

Prayer:

Beautiful Beloved, thank You that You have seen me, all of me, in my good and bad days, and still love me completely. Thank You that You think I am perfect the way I am, and that nothing else on this earth can compare with Your love. Help me remember this when I get down about the world’s eyes, and let me look through Yours instead. Amen.

Nothing Else To Give

My soul faints with longing for Your salvation, but I have put my hope in Your word.

Psalm 119:81

I have nothing else to give.

I am drained, I am harvested,

I am the remnants of a fading field.

All I have prayed and hoped

and dreamed to be have

fled and folded in tight crevices,

cradled compartments in which

I hold my illusions and gain silence

that forever calls my name.

I am holding strong on empty.

I am forgetting You have more,

implore more for my being.

But what can I do,

in my meek and minor moments?

Timid I was born to be

and timid shall I stay.

Hold me close,

breathe a reminder upon my lips

that You have seen my

darkest shadows,

my deepest dwellings caked with doubt,

but that You can lift my broken pieces

and take them to the heights

that they were meant to see,

the light they were meant to feel.

Let Your dawn unfurl inside me,

let it fill my frenzied nights

and finally find my purpose.

Prayer:

Lord, I have nothing more to give to you in my weakest and faintest moments. With my last strength, all I ask is that I seek Your face and You fill me with Your light and direction. Continue to guide me, Father, as I am stumbling along the way. Amen.

What You Give

Peace I leave with you; My peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives.

-John 14:27

I don’t want the world.

            I want You.

            I want Your goodness, Your light, Your innocence, Your mercy. I want You streaming through my bloodlines, tucked into the snuggest corners of my heart. I want Your voice, a string of satin stars in my bleak and searching sky. I want Your patience helping me up every time I fall and Your strength lifting me when I am weak.

            Each day I am surrounded by darkness and discomfort. I crave all that is You, all that You are and all that You’ll ever be. I don’t want what the world wants. I want to be different. I want to stand alone, if alone means bringing You to my side. I am no one, but You stoop down to my level to raise me up and whisper that I am someone, that I am Yours. If there is any way I can bring joy to You, I want to find it and offer it up in my meager, mud-caked hands. Because I have been in the dirt and buried in shame, but You’ve covered my grime with grace.

            I don’t want what the world longs for, all the excess, all the glitter and brash brightness that gives pleasure and satisfaction for the moment. I want something that lasts. That will bring me life and satisfaction in my soul. I don’t want what the world gives. I want what You give.

            I don’t want to break Your heart. I want to be better. Want to be better for You, to bleed myself of selfish ambition and preservation and lose my life in Your love. I want my ears to perk up at Your calling and my feet to swiftly carry me to the arms of the brokenhearted. When You knock upon my door, I want to warmly welcome You into my heart, into my home. And I want You to take me in Your embrace and fill me with all that is sweet and simple. I want to know You, to intimately and everlastingly know how You live and how You love, what breaks You and binds me to You. All I’m longing for is in Your presence. I am reaching for Your hand, to entwine Your fingers of forgiveness with my hands of hurt and be transformed.

            All this life claims to offer cannot, and will not, compare to all You so generously give, for in Your peace I am perfected.

Prayer:

Father, all I want is You. I want to be close, I want to breathe in Your blessing and be covered in Your beautiful and everlasting love. This world pretends to give, but all it does is take. I am tempted and tried at every turn, and I don’t want to fall. Hold me, Lord. Keep me in Your light, Your laughter and love. Amen.

Words

Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.

-Hebrews 12:2

            For the first time in a lifetime, I feel like I don’t have words. Words to speak, words to breathe, words to inspire me. I know that if I try to dig up and uncover what it is I’m really trying to say, I will find everything I’ve ever longed for, ever dreamed of, my highest hopes and my brightest belief. But I leave it all buried where I left it, because at this point in time it hurts my heart too much to think of.

             Sometimes I feel like I’m fighting a losing battle. So much brokenness. So many hurting hearts. I dare to encourage, and it turns around and slaps me in my face. Sometime I feel too much. Sometimes I don’t feel enough. Our hearts are fragile beings; they have a life of their own and are constantly pulling towards the light, over and over again, even when they’ve been pushed down into darkness. No matter the pain, there is always that one ounce of strength holding us up.

            It’s the desire to finally get it right, to make sense of life and restore our wounds with a saving salve. Because we were not made to break. We were designed to be whole, fully satisfied, fully attached to the One who called us to creation. Sin slipped in, struck down our perfection and left us searching for the promise that we are not lost. That we are meant to be lifted up once more.

            There are more words to be written. Each and every day, every hour, new sentences are forming. And in the letters, hope is strung between the spaces. Because without hope, we are just filling space on earth. Without hope, I am just a shadow passing through this life. I want form. I want a voice. And I want it to ring clearly, and certainly, to raise up my King, the One who was, Who is, and Who is yet to come. Because through Him all things were made, and though my words fail me at the moment, He will make them pour from my mouth again. We will all get it right again, we will be made whole, if we trust and seek the Lord, the author and perfecter of our faith, who gave Himself so we may once again dance in light.

Prayer:

Lord, I am breathless at best. Words fail me, motivation slips away from me, but I know that You are with me and You are doing something that I cannot see. So I will continue to fix my eyes upon You, to see to my needs each day and my dreams each night. You are good, You are in control. And You are doing something wonderful. Amen.