sparks in the stubble
It is amazing that it had to take nearly fifty years in order for me to finally wake up to the truth - to the deepest desire of my heart - that truly, all I want for myself and for my loved ones is to die and go to Heaven. And that to do this...I need to live right. I need to live dead to myself. I need to do the opposite of so much that I have already done, and I need to let go of those sins once and for all and quit thinking I need to earn God's love, because I mean, honestly...you wouldn't believe all that I have done, now, would you? I need to free myself of unnecessary sufferings and quit frustrating the Lord's plans by jumping in front of them because I panic and believe that once again, it is all up to me.
And I throw my hands up and wonder why my children do not have this same understanding. Why faith is uncool and thinking about Heaven right now is unimportant, and that talking about the enemy is just down right foolish, and oh good grief and Lord have Mercy, but come on now, if Kanye can wake up, certainly, so can my children.
And yet I did the same thing.
And not that long ago.
We are all on our own journey, and newsflash to myself, but I am not the tour guide of my children's life..Jesus is. All I can do is my best to live in and follow Christ and pray that they do the same...one day...and preferably...really soon. Because selfishly so, I want to see it happen. I want to know that they have closed their eyes to their reason and broken through the world's obstacles before I am dead.
But all in God's time.
Right?
Right.
My prayer this morning is something I scribbled in a notebook and will most likely become the new ending to the talk the Lord has had me traveling around and sharing...and it was inspired by the mess and seriously hard thing that HOPE is, as well as my own filth of sin that has sealed itself to my soul...and something woke up in me by the fire with coffee...sparks in the stubble, as I felt a shift in my prayer that did not come from me...
I am so preoccupied in praying for everyone else's cure...that I have failed to see the desperate need of healing my own soul is in. And perhaps...cure or no cure on this side of the veil for those I spend hours on knees for...perhaps the peace that the Lord is offering behind the walls my useless worries have built around my heart, does not come from their cure, but comes from my own. And maybe the consolation I dream of has nothing to do with my circumstance changing, and everything to do with changing the attitude of my soul.
And so I pray, Cure me, Jesus.
Close the eyes of my reason.
Give me the grace to live like I saw.
