Lay it All Down

In these days of wild uncertainty, many of us seem to find ourselves riding an emotional rollercoaster unlike ever before.

I wish I could say I was right there with you, but it seems my entire life has been an emotional rollercoaster, so this intense intermingling of grief and joy and dread and hope is nothing new to me.

For a week I might be perfectly happy--I’ve found my introvert self hasn’t noticed much different in staying at home for days, weeks...months. I’m surrounded, still, by members of my family, and, still, need time by myself. I wouldn’t even say that these weeks of social distancing have refreshed my person-weary soul because, in fact, it seems I’ve been around people more than ever day in and out.

Yet, there comes a day--inevitably--of immense, soul-crushing grief. I wake up after sleeping through four alarms (yet again) and I don’t want to push myself out of bed, brush my teeth, make breakfast, drink coffee, and read my Bible--all of them: wonderful commodities and luxuries I’ve enjoyed and cultivated as part of my typical morning routine. Yet, I wake up on these days with this foreboding anxiety pitting in my stomach, yes, already, at 9am in the morning. I stretch beneath my fuzzy blanket, trying to cool the sweat of the night from my skin--trying to formulate some sort of prayer thanking God for yet another glorious morning, but the heart palpitations and an absurd number of racing thoughts that aren’t thanking God for yet another day tell the story of anything but new-day glory. No--the palpitations and thoughts speak of deep glacier fear, the war-trenches of grief, and the dull impatience of when-will-this-be-over. 

What do I Have?

What do I have to bring to the table? My hands are empty. My heart feels empty, too. My mind--it’s far from empty, but is there anything hiding within which is worthwhile?

A snowscape beckons my yearning gaze out the window. The wind, the pure frozen tundra appears bleak, dull, lifeless, but it has something to offer--

From the edges of the window appear a group of children, racing along the landscape, tossing snowballs at one another, pulling a sled with an even smaller child atop. Their giggling glides across the icy top of the otherwise untouched snow, giving my heart a jumpstart, the pure giddiness their laughter contains plucking on deadened strings.

Even stark winter has something to bring to the table.

What do I have?

I have longing--a deep, gut-wrenching desire to be used for glory, for good, for something, somebody, much higher in purpose and stature and everything than me.

It started as a small fire, lit as if by a single, last-ditch match that had been submerged in water and encased in ice. But the fire caught, slightly, ever so tiny, in the belly of my soul. It burned, steadily, almost blowing out, but it burned on despite the recurring waves of doubt and the lies of the enemy. It burned on, steadily.

God, use me. I cried, in the depths of my being, keeled over on the floor of my bedroom, heart bent in reverence and desire. God, use me despite myself and my shortcomings and my sinfulness. God, use me.

I have nothing but you. Use me, God, use me. Empty me of myself--of my jealousies and my comparisons and my pride. Empty me of anxieties and anger and lust. Empty me, O God, empty me.

Fill me with you. Fill me with your Divine Presence and Redeemed Creativity. Let me heed your voice and your leading. Let me seek your will rather than my own, flawed, human one.

Jesus, use me.

Fill me with your love.

Jesus, use me.

What do I have to bring to the table?

Nothing, on my own.

But, the match-fire has blazed on, igniting my soul to the One who calls me higher and deeper than I can imagine.

I have nothing but Him.

In Him, I am New.

This, He, is my fire.


“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come! All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation: that God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ, not counting men’s sins against them. And he has committed to us the message of reconciliation. We are therefore Christ’s ambassadors, as though God were making his appeal through us. We implore you on Christ’s behalf: Be reconciled to God. God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.” (2 Corinthians 5:17-21)


“Therefore, since we have such a hope, we are very bold.” (2 Corinthians 3:12)

10/3 The Only Difference

Can’t you see

tnereffid eb ot tnaw tsuj I

but every time I get near the mark

(ti) ssim tsuj tub esolc os emoc I

nobody knows what (it) is, but a shot in the dark

kool ot esoohc ohw esoht rof dniheb tfel

but are we really seeing clearly when we look in a mirror?

koohs gnieb si tnereffid gnieb ebyam

to the core of who you are and learning to be okay with

fear

ylecreif evol ot elba gnieb snaem ti ebyam ro

Or maybe being different is more complicated than I could ever be

ew woh ni si ecnereffid ylno eht ebyam tub

See

Like a Piece of Childhood

You remind me of my childhood

Like one of my dad’s warm bear hugs

Or of hot chocolate in an Army mug

It could be the idea of coming home

Maybe of sitting around in a group and listening close

I can remember him playing This Little Pig with all our little toes

You were never far off

Always lingering with every moment we spent

You remind me of the times of whispered prayers so fervent

You’re like a piece of my childhood, but also my present

You’re a magnificent portrait of fatherly devotion,

But all you are is my dad’s Lubriderm Lotion.

On My Way to Work One Morning

When the morning rays cut through the overgrowth

I stood,

slowly,

patiently,

quickly,

in the warmth of the fog,

leaves glistened with first-light magic,

drenched in the cool of last-evening dew,

layered thickly, salivating with the golden light,

the world was drawn into a moment of sublime—

I stood,

Wondering

in awe, in that rabbit hole of time—

it didn’t last long,

but for a brief moment I held in my heart

Something of inexplicable beauty.