Learning to Rest.

The truth is, I wanted to write an entry today because it's February 29th. And whenever it's February 29th, I feel like I should make the most of it, since it only comes around every four years. So, here goes.

A few days ago, I wrote a brief blog about rest. It took me a long time, but when I first began to truly grasp that the core of our faith is about rest, not striving, relief overwhelmed me in a sudden flood that I have never recovered from.

Relief, yes. But also, throughout the years, varying degrees of extreme frustration. I'm a striver, you see. It's what I do. I have lived with a people-pleasing mentality as long as I can remember, and if there's nothing I can do to get the gold star, the star that keeps the guilt and insecurities away, that lets me know I'm good enough--well, that's when the self-hatred starts to creep in. Or bang down my front door. Either way.

We live under this delusion that if we stay busy doing "good" things, then God is happy with us. When really, we're just burning ourselves out, pouring out all our strength, never going back to our Daddy for more, and then we wonder why we feel so empty. There's a reason God gave us an entire day dedicated to rest each week. There's a reason Jesus told Martha that Mary had chosen what was better. There's a reason we feel dead instead of alive.

Because we're not entering the promised land God has already won for us. "There remains a Sabbath-rest for the people of God; for anyone who enters God's rest also rests from his own work, just as God did from his. Let us, therefore, make every effort to enter that rest..." (Hebrews 4:9-10).

Make every effort to enter that rest? Yes. Paradoxically, it can be a struggle to enter His rest. A thousand other things demand our attention. Guilt tugs at our heartstrings, telling us that we should be doing something, that in these quiet moments we are losing an opportunity to get something accomplished. But it's a lie. Holy lives flow out of a relationship with our Father, and if we don't take the time to be still and know that He is God, it's incredible how quickly we'll lose sight of Him, even in the midst of church activities and good deeds.

I once went to a church where a woman spoke a beautiful truth over me. She said I’m floating down a river, and I need to just relax and enjoy the ride. God has something for me that requires a lot of strength, and the joy of the Lord will be my strength. I don't need to do anything. Just float. And every so often, duck my head underwater and take a drink.

Sometimes, when I'm stressed, guilt-ridden, and running on empty, that image comes to mind. And then I feel myself letting go, not fighting the current anymore, but allowing the strength of the Spirit to take over, drawing me straight into the heart of God. I drink deeply, and it gives me peace.

Taking the Time.

Last night, I fought a battle. It was about 10:30pm, and I still had a ton of homework to do before the morning. And when I considered how much had to be finished by the week's end, I was even more overwhelmed. There's no time! whispered constantly at the back of my mind. I was going to be up late.

I hadn't had my devotional time yet, which I usually allot about an hour for. That's what the battle was about. I love You, God, but I'm really busy this week. An hour is just too much, today. Thankfully, God refused to relent, and I took an hour to push the homework aside and spend time with Him.

I'm not saying that if you miss out on your alone-time with God you're a terrible person and should feel guilty about it forever (I've skipped plenty of days myself, sometimes without even realizing it). And if it becomes merely something you do out of obligation, just going through the motions so you don't feel like a "bad Christian," that's not healthy, either--again, I know because I've been there, and continue to struggle with that "checklist" mentality.

Still, isn't it crazy how easy it is to make excuses not to make that time, despite all the time we make for everything else? Yes, I'm incredibly busy this week (I ended up working on homework until 2:30am this morning). But I made time for a lot of other things yesterday, before coming upon the temptation to not have my devotions: classes, practicing piano, calling a friend, Facebook, meals, my senior exit exam. I made time for these things because I had deemed them essential to my schedule. But when you stop and think about it, God is way more important than any of those things. Why do we treat God as unessential when He's the most essential of all?

That time I spent with Him during that hour last night was so good. He comforted me, sang over me, reminded me how small my problems are and how big He is. What a blessing I would have lost if I'd just skipped out on it! Sometimes we act like spending time with God is such an inconvenience, just another check on our list of Christian duties, but it's not like we're the ones doing Him a favor here--the time we spend with Him is for our own good. We end up so much happier, and fulfilled, and ready to face the world because of it.

So when you feel the urge to neglect spending time with God because you have too much on your plate, I encourage you to fight that feeling. No matter what it is that's overwhelming you, God is greater. He's not gonna let you drown. Just take a few moments to look into His eyes. Turning your focus away from the storm won't cause you to sink. Quite the opposite, in fact. This is how we are saved.

So On the Seventh Day He Rested.

Maybe I'm too needy. I feel that way, sometimes. I wish I had more to offer. I wish I was stronger. Do you ever feel this way? This tiredness, seeping into your bones? I think it happens because we've forgotten how to rest. To be still and know that He is God. Today, I want to rest. Join me?

I've Gotta Feelin'.

I am here on behalf of feelings. We live in a world of extremes, where polar opposites reign with no in-betweens, pitting feelings against rationality/logic/"the mind" in a battle to the death (...okay, near death). And in our society, rationality usually wins. Or at least, it tends to take precedence.

I have, on many occasions, heard feelings dismissed, or downplayed, when it comes to our relationship with God. Don't get me wrong here. I am NOT saying we should only follow God when we feel like it. I'm not saying we should trust every feeling that comes to us. I'm not saying that when the feelings are absent, God is, too.

What I am saying is that feelings are important, and if we act like they don't matter, we risk reducing God to a theological concept that we can understand (a teensy bit) on an intellectual level, but never really know.

Jesus said that the greatest commandment is to love God with all our heart, mind, soul, and strength. In other words, with every part of who we are--and that includes our feelings. We should overflow with happiness when we think of Him. He should stir our hearts to wonder. We should get excited to spend time with Him.

No, we can't force these feelings into being. But if we start truly seeking God and resting in His Presence, the feelings will come. Because He is the One we were made for; and when He is near, our hearts recognize it and begin to beat faster. During the times when He feels distant, remember His goodness in the past. Talk to Him. Think about Him. Read about Him. Listen for His voice. Sing to Him. The feelings may not come all at once; they may remain only for an instant. Don't give up. Keep seeking--not for the feelings themselves, but for the God you love. And the feelings will come. He's too beautiful for anything else. When our eyes are on Him, there is joy, and peace, and awe.

A relationship with God based purely on emotion is unhealthy, but that doesn't mean that emotional experiences with God are wrong. On the contrary, they are essential. Because it's those times, those times that I can't explain with words, with any kind of logic, those times when I have felt Him and known He is God--those are the times that stick with me in the deserts. When I don't have the strength to fight for the feelings. I remember the times when I have tasted and seen that the Lord is good, and I am infused with confidence that there are better things in store for me.

In other words: my experiences with God have meant so much more to me than my knowledge about Him.

Don't settle for anything less than loving God with your whole self. He gave us emotions for a reason. We have them because our Father does. In case you haven't noticed (and I sincerely hope you have), we serve a passionate God. If our emotions don't align with His, we shouldn't ignore them; we should ask for a heart change. We should seek a deeper encounter with His Spirit.

Yes, it's messy, as all relationships are. Emotions are sticky and gooey and impossible to sort out. It's a lot easier to simply read words on a page and try to follow all the rules. But God wants all of us, even our fickle, deceitful, bleeding hearts. He wants to tune them, transforming them into instruments of joy, slowing or stirring their beats to the rhythm of His own. For when they are in the hands of our Creator, our feelings, too, will be restored, made into something marvelous, something we won't even believe.

Dear God,

Hello again. It's me, your daughter.

I don't know exactly how I am feeling today. Which happens a lot, as You well know. I've been having trouble sleeping lately, so maybe that's why my insides are perhaps even more muddled than usual. But I don't want to whine, this time. I think I'd like to talk about something good.

I can hear the birds singing outside my window. The dark is coming on, but still they sing. The other day, I saw the littlest bird that had the loudest voice. It was the voice that I heard first, that caught my attention. And when I turned my head to see where it was coming from, I stared, surprised. The bird was so small, I could hardly believe the brilliant sound was coming from him, but I had to believe because I was watching him as he perched with tiny beak open, ringing the world like a bell.

I have a friend who sometimes calls me Alyssa-Bird, or just Birdie. I've always liked the nickname. If I could be any animal for a day, I would be a bird. Because of how beautiful it would be to leap off a branch and stretch my wings into soaring.

I'm glad You don't mind following my digressions, God. I know You already know all these things. And I really do believe You want us to fly. If not, You wouldn't have given us the birds. All of creation is a painting that tells us more about You, and about ourselves. We are born with metaphors bleeding into our eyes, and that is how we understand the deeper things, or at least, we try to.

Flying is like falling, but backwards. It draws us upward into a waterless sea without boundary or measure, the life-giving warmth of the sun on our feathers. It is the picture that comes to mind when I think of freedom. Because it breaks the rules that tie everyone else down to Earth.

I want to break the rules. I want to fall into the sky. And keep falling, higher and deeper, plunging into the blanket of stars, between the threads of the universe until I reach You.

Abba, I'm such a little bird. But sometimes, when You're near, I stand on my tiptoes, ready to leave the ground. I close my eyes and can feel You drawing me up. My heart fills up, a smile turns up. Up, up, and up. There is no end to this atmosphere. Take me higher.

After Many Conversations About Idiots.

Words are powerful. And no, I'm not just saying that because I'm a writer (in fact, in most cases, I'd even venture to say the spoken word is more powerful than the written one).

The universe was brought into existence with words. In the first chapter of John, he declares that Jesus was the Word, and the Word was God (I know a lot of people equate the "Word" to Scripture, but since the New Testament wasn't compiled until much later, I think John is referring to something deeper, less comprehensible, in his opening chapter). Time and time again, Jesus commanded His disciples to use the power of words to bring the kingdom of Heaven down to Earth--to cast out demons, to speak healing over the sick, to invite the very Presence of God into the hearts of humankind. And when I say "Jesus commanded His disciples," what I'm actually trying to get at is: Jesus commanded us.

However, as is the case with most forms of power, what can be used for good can also be used for evil. I could go on for years about this subject. Jesus talks about this over and over again, and James 3 is famous for it. But for the moment, I simply want to focus on one little passage that I ran across only a few minutes ago, that tugged my heart with just enough insistence to make me pay attention.

"Out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks. The good man brings good things out of the good stored up in him, and the evil man brings evil things out of the evil stored up in him. But I tell you that men will have to give account on the day of judgment for every careless word they have spoken." (Matthew 12:34-36, emphasis added)

Ouch. I don't know about you, but I say a lot of careless words. I say a lot of things that don't come from love. Or truth. It's so easy to say bad things about people. To get together with friends who we know will agree with us, and get those bitter thoughts out so we can laugh about it, pretend that it's no big deal. And when our friends come to us and talk about this person who is so annoying, or that person who is such a jerk, which of us does not go along? Sometimes, during these conversations, God gives me the presence of mind to step outside myself, and when I do, it breaks my heart. And still, I let the conversation continue.

We are the children of God, whose first and foremost calling is to love. Everyone. Especially, especially, the ones whom we find most unloveable. Our enemies. The people who get on our nerves. The ones who make us cringe when we catch sight of them. And most of the time, we're nice to their faces, while we disparage them not only in our minds (which is wrong just the same), but also out loud as soon as they leave the room. We are speaking the evil inside us into an external existence. That is the overflow of our heart--a heart that we claim belongs to God.

And those words are going to be called into account one day. Our words have power. To call forth life, or death. To build up, or to destroy. Sure, it's easy to encourage the people we love, but what credit is that to us? It doesn't take a transformed heart to do that (Matthew 5:46-47).

What does take a transformed heart is loving those who seem to clash with us in every way. It takes a miracle that only the Spirit of God can perform. And that miracle is seeing people as God sees them. He strips away all those quirks that get under your skin and reveals who they really are--a beautiful child, created by Him, a brother or sister who has been bruised and battered and broken by the world just as you have.

We look down on other people to make ourselves feel better, but the truth is, we're just the same. That's why there's no use comparing, who's better or worse. We've all fallen. We're just as "unloveable," at our core; the only difference is, we're probably better at hiding it from the rest of the world. But God loves them every bit as much as He loves us, despite all their (and our) mess. That's why He's called us to this, a life of loving, which is a lot like dying. Maybe that's why we fear it so much. I have found no words that sum this up more perfectly than Donald Miller's, in his book, Blue Like Jazz, a prayer that I have made my own when it comes to loving others:

"I will love you like God, because of God, mighted by the power of God. I will stop expecting your love, demanding your love, trading your love, gaming for your love. I will simply love. I am giving myself to you, and tomorrow I will do it again. I suppose the clock itself will wear thin its time before I am ended at this altar of dying and dying again."

Because that's what is truly incredible and beautiful about this story that God has brought us into: it's so much bigger than us.

Psalm 139: The AR Translation.

Oh Lord, You have looked into every corner of my heart, into the very core of who I am. You know everything about me, the beautiful and the ugly. You are paying attention to all my activities, making note of every movement, however seemingly insignificant, even the times I sit down and the times I get up; You hear my thoughts even as I think them. When I walk outside, You are watching over me. When I lie down to sleep, Your gaze never leaves me; You are familiar with all my habits and quirks. You know what I'm going to speak before I say it, perceiving my meaning completely, even if I can't find the words.

You encircle me protectively in Your arms, surrounding me with Your Presence on all sides. You go before me to prepare my future, and stay behind me so that I am never trapped in the past. You have rested Your hand upon my head, the gentle weight of Your power anointing me, choosing me. I speak these words, but they are too beautiful for me to understand, too high for me to reach!

Where can I go where Your Spirit does not follow me? Where can I run to escape from Your Presence? If I soar into the bluest of skies, up into the very clouds of heaven, I find You there; if I fall into the deepest pit of hell, You chase after me to pull me up again. If I wake up just as the morning sun bleeds onto the horizon, if I sail to the ends of the Earth, even there You will lead me in the way that is right, Your hand will hold onto me and never let go.

If I say, "I will hide in the shadows of my sin and suffering, for my mistakes have turned every good thing around me to darkness and shame," even that darkness will not be too dark in the light of Your glory; the black of midnight will shine like the sun, for the darkest of nights become like the brightest of days when You show up.

For You created the most intimate pieces of me; You masterfully wove every part of my being together before I was born. I sings songs of joy to You because You have made me beautiful and perfect; everything You do is wonderful, as You prove to me again and again. The details of my body weren't hidden from You when I was created in the depths of mystery, You saw me and loved me even as I was being formed into Your masterpiece. You established every day of my life, planned out all the incredible things that would happen, before I had lived a single day of it.

God, Your thoughts mean so much to me! They are too many for me to grasp! I could count out every particle of dust on Earth, and still it could not begin to measure the depths of all You that Your mind contains. When I wake up, and my own thoughts begin to churn, You easily keep track of them. Wherever I go, I am always with You.

If only You would destroy the Enemy, Oh God! Demons, stay back! They constantly whisper lies about You into my ear; they blacken Your name with their deceit. I hate them because of their hatred for You, and I despise them when I see the injustice they stir up around the world in rebellion against You. I have nothing but hatred for them; with every ounce of strength You give me, I strive to fight against them.

Continue to search every corner of my heart, Oh God, the good and the bad. Test me with fire, that I may be refined, becoming more like You. Know all my anxieties and worries, so You can speak Your truth over me and give me peace. Show me the things in my life that need to die so that Your Spirit can live more purely in me, and lead me on into the glory of Your eternal kingdom.

I Miss You So.

This morning, I came across a song that basically sums up the last two and a half years of my spiritual experience:

Beginning in August of 2008, I went through a period of explosive spiritual growth. God was opening my eyes to so many truths, and every day I was falling deeper in love with Him. I had so much joy, so much faith, so much expectancy. I could say with Job, "My ears had heard of you, but now my eyes have seen you," (42:8). I swore I would never go back to the way I was before. I swore I would never forget all the beautiful things He had shown me. I swore I would stay in that place of rest forever.

I broke my promise. Slid right back into the valley. Right back into complacency, discouragement, doubt. I'm not saying my spiritual life has been utterly unfruitful. I've still been seeking God, and I can definitely say I've experienced Him in some powerful ways since my spiritual high wore off. But it has been sporadic, and often fraught with the old insecurities and distractions and apathy. Something has changed. Sometimes when I'm praying, my heart will begin to ache because He seems so far away, and I'll whisper, "God, I miss you." 

This is the place I'm in the middle of right now, and to be honest, it terrifies me. The thought that for the rest of my life I'll be looking back on that brief moment of time when everything felt so right, and longing to be that person again. And I hear the Enemy taunting me, you'll never go back to that place. You failed once, and that's all you'll ever do. Try to climb out of the rut, you'll just find your mud-battered body sunk right back here. There is no escape.

Of course, it's a lie. God has promised great things for His kids. He has not called any of us to a life of mediocrity. His plans for us are so much greater than any American dream. He has already set us free.

Still, when you've been in the valley for such a very, long time, it's ridiculously easy to forget that truth. It's easy to give into the mentality that "this is as good as it's gonna get." Because we get tired of fighting. And waiting for things to change. And wondering if we did something wrong, or if there's something we're not doing right. 

But I have been to a better place. I have seen the face of God. It's not just a part of my past; it's a promise for my future. I don't know why I've been in this desert of waiting. And when I get scared that I'll be stuck here forever, I simply have to trust and pray that when God is ready for me to move, He'll open my ears to hear His voice and give me the courage to act. Maybe one day I'll look back, and this will all make sense. Even if it doesn't, I know God's plans are a heck of a lot better than mine, and I'll just have to rest in that. What I won't do is settle. By the grace of God, I will remember His promises to me. And I'll never give up hope. 

Tips for Surviving V-Day.

Valentine's Day is just one of those holidays: you either love it, or...you despise it with the burning passion of a thousand suns (strangely enough, it seems that singles by far tend to express the latter opinion).

And yes, like nearly every other holiday, it's completely over-commercialized (thank you, America). Still, I've always adored the idea behind it: a day to celebrate love. To tell the people you care about how special they are to you. To take a moment to recognize the beautiful people in your life. Which is why, even as a single person, I'm actually rather fond of Valentine's Day (and not just because of the chocolate--though that's definitely a plus).You see, when I'm focused on letting the people around me know that I love them, I find that I'm a lot less likely to throw a pity party for myself because there's no guy around to give me flowers.

This way of thinking applies to a lot more than a silly holiday. It relates to every day of our lives. Whenever I turn my thoughts towards myself (which is most of the time, unfortunately), I usually end up miserable. But when I shift my focus to loving others, putting their needs before my own, helping and encouraging the people I come into contact with, I suddenly become a much better person. I'm not feeling sorry for myself anymore, not feeling anxious and overwhelmed and inadequate.

Why is that? Because when we are loving, we are fulfilling the greatest commandment. When we are loving, our own self fades. When we are loving, God shows up.

We need to take the opportunity to love, every time it is given to us. Valentine's Day is just another excuse to do so. There are lonely people who need to know they're beautiful. There are broken people who need to know that they're loved. Even on the days when we feel alone in the world, we have to remember: God called us to live lives that are so much bigger than ourselves. And He promised to be with us every step of the way.

Hunger Pains.

At church today, our pastor told us about asking his four year-old son, "Why do you think God fed the 5,000 people with the loaves and fishes?" His son answered, "Because they were hungry."

I think it is one of the most beautiful responses to the story I have ever heard. Sometimes, we delve so deep into things, trying to come up with every complicated and intellectual interpretation possible, that we miss the simple, glorious truth. The people were hungry. So God fed them.

God loves it when His kids approach Him with hungry hearts. Especially when we come expecting to be filled. To come expecting used to sound prideful to me. What right do we have to expect anything from God? Until I discovered that God told us to. He calls it faith.

"Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened.

"Which of you, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!" (Matthew 7:7-11)

That is a radical promise! Jesus is not going to withhold those loaves and fishes from us, even if it takes the impossible to fulfill our need. He's just waiting for us to take Him at His word and start pressing in, seeking, asking, knocking. Insistently, to the point of being obnoxious even, as was illustrated with the parable of the persistent widow (Luke 18:1-8).

"And will not God bring about justice for his chosen ones, who cry out to him day and night? Will he keep putting them off? I tell you, he will see that they get justice, and quickly. However, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on the earth?" (Luke 18:7-8). 

Imagine what incredible things would be accomplished for the glory of God if we actually believed all the things we say we do! It's easy to say we believe that the Bible is true, but if you look at it closely, it makes some pretty ridiculous claims. And we stuff those away in some abstract, theological concept instead of living it out as a part of our daily reality. Why are we so afraid of miracles? Why are we so shy of the impossible?

Because most of us are starving. Our faith isn't anywhere near the size of a mustard seed. We'd be lucky if we could see it under a microscope. We're wasting away in our apathy, and the saddest part is, we hardly even notice.

But if you stop for a moment, if you pay a little bit of attention to the whispers of your Spirit, I'll bet you can still feel that hunger pain. And when we realize we're hungry, we're in pretty good shape. Because as children of God, we know there is only One who satisfies, who has promised to always satisfy, every time. So come to the Father. Ask Him for bread.

 

The Joy (Joy, Joy, Joy) Down in My Heart.

I think, when Jesus said that in this world we will have trouble, I was subconsciously under the impression that He meant we were supposed to be miserable. Early on, I was taught that there is a difference between joy and happiness, something along the lines of happiness being the warm, fuzzy, and rather fickle feeling that depended solely on circumstances, and joy being a theological abstraction that you were somehow supposed to maintain at all times. The distinction seemed very wonderful to me at the time. I was all about definitions; they gave the world lines to color inside of. Clearly, this was back before I liked abstract art.

We all know feelings are, by their very nature, transitory. Which is why we're comfortable calling happiness a feeling, but not joy. Joy is too religious to be fleeting. Still, while I do believe joy is a choice to some degree, I also think it seems suspicious that someone could claim to have joy if there aren't some feelings of happiness, or peace, or something positive stirring inside them. Just like I'd be suspicious if someone claimed to be patient if they were actually fuming on the inside.

But I'm getting bogged down in definitions, and that's not what I intended. Not that my intentions matter all that much. Still, what I'm trying to get at is, it was kind of a revelation for me to discover that God actually likes to see me happy. No, I'm not talking about God-is-your-Santa-Claus theology. Because our ultimate happiness doesn't come from getting a beach house (surprise, surprise). True happiness comes from being in a relationship with Him. You should probably read that last sentence again, because if you're as jaded as I am, it probably went right through you.

God loves to see us smile. He loves to hear us laugh. I know because He tells me. Sometimes He whispers it in my ear when I'm singing to Him. Sometimes He shows me with little gifts, a bluebird stark against a gray sky. Sometimes He speaks it to me through the words of a friend.

Yes, He said we would have trouble. He said we would suffer. Welcome to the broken world. But He also said to take heart. He said that the burden is easy. He said that joy in Him is our strength.

I'll probably never grasp the depths of what joy is. Some mixture of conscious choice, and feeling, and (a ton of) grace. I can't describe it, really. Sort of like lava, or a rapidly-growing vine, or a geyser, surging upwards. And yes, it is something you can feel. It brings happiness with it. It happens when my eyes are fixed on Jesus--even if it's only for a second, a sudden glace in the midst of trouble. It makes me smile.

The Valley of Death and Dying.

I want these words to reach into something real. Something raw, and ugly. Messy and spilling over with bright blood, like being born, or dying. I'm sick of the intellectual. I am vomiting up thick chunks of the abstract, searing acid of the theoretical erupting from my stomach until there is only the empty.

I hate speaking from the other side of this computer screen, what I want is to grab your shoulders and shake you, what I want is to plunge my hands in brown sludge, up to my elbows, breathing in that stench. I hate words. I hate that they are weightless. Mere symbols, deferring meaning. Look, abstraction! See how it is impossible to avoid.

People are dying out there. Life is happening, in all its harsh dissonance, bullets exploding in your ears, or in the quiet moments, when the silence perches over you even louder, glaring. It means something. Maybe these words don't, but the bleeding that they are trying to describe does. I hate that I can only tell you this. I hate that I can speak of sobbing, but not wrap my arms around you.

SCREAMING. The world is on fire. I see the flames in your eyes. I see them whittle you to dust. There is no comfort I can give for this.

I hate that the truth sounds brittle when I speak it. I hate when I say God, and you have no idea what I'm saying. I hate when I say love, and you scoff and turn away. I do not blame you. How can I blame you? I am talking to myself. There is no solution for this.

My words mean nothing. They are beautiful and empty. They are shards of light, refracting. They shred my throat and stain the floor.

But You, oh God. You are the One who can save us.

This Altar of Dying & Dying Again.

Abba,

Thank You. For every single
reminder. Because when I remember
Your goodness, nothing
else even matters. I hear You
say beautiful. I hear You
whisper (my name), I love you.

Who am I? I'm Your girl.
Yours. I've always been Yours.
These hands, these thoughts,
these tears--not mine, never
mine. My God! You are
the One who carries me.

And this? This small
thing. Such a little thing.
Here, in my palms turned
upward. My heart
beating slower now, like peace,
like wonder, because

This has always been Yours.

Insert Clever Title Here.

I'm so tired, today. Probably because I haven't been sleeping well of late. Too many thoughts, circulating. Making the rounds, door-to-door, knock knock--I shout that no one's home. But I hear the knocking, all the same.

I don't know what to say. If I dug into Scripture, I'm sure I could find something. You can always find something, when you're looking. Is it terrible that it seems like too much effort at the moment?

We have to be careful, about these things. If we always act purely based on feeling, we are very sorry creatures indeed. Feelings have never been very reliable. They can be wonderful and beautiful, but that does not mean they are always true. They can be, of course. But only sometimes. I think this is what God means when He says the heart is deceitful. Partly, at least.

On the other hand, if we always act out of obligation, that is another dangerous thing. I am very good at obligations. Put it on a list, and I'll check it off. But obligations can become so very dirty, if your heart's not right. Which is sometimes a problem with me. Doing things because I'm supposed to, but on the inside I don't really mean it, on the inside I despise it. That's a little something called hypocrisy.

Then what's the answer, when your feelings and obligations don't match up? There is no answer, of course. Well, I suppose there is an answer, but I don't claim to know it. Even though I do pretend to know a lot of answers--but mostly they're just educated guesses. Mostly I'm still searching, mostly I'm still trying to figure this stuff out. Now hang on while I backpedal out of this digression.

So. Since I don't have the answer, I do a lot of praying about it. That is why I am head-over-heels in love with the prayer from Psalm 51: Create in me a pure heart, oh God, and renew a right spirit within me. Because my motivations tend to be very screwy. Yes, I want to do the right thing, but I also want to do it for the right reasons. I want to do it out of my love for God, not out of my fear of not being "good" enough. And I know that's what God wants, too.

Now I am laying here on my bed, still tired, but a little less so. Feeling a bit of contentedness, because I think God said what He wanted to. No, I didn't dig through Scripture. Sometimes that's what He tells me to do, and I'm trying to learn to do a better job of listening. Even on the tired days. But I guess this time, He decided instead to do the digging in my heart.