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Voice

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I stepped into the water, sure of your calling voice.  That water, so black and roiling, it took my breath away.  I looked you full in the face and put one leg over the side of the boat and placed my foot on the surface tension of the water.  Waves staining the leg of my jeans.  I stand up on the water, leaning into the wind. But that seems like a long ago yesterday. I want to find myself in your voice once again.  To know the pure joy of just being in your presence.  To want to want to seek you and to know and be known by you.  I don't want to look back on the days of my life and try to recreate my victories.  I want new victories and stories to tell of how you're saving my day and redeeming my life.  But I will stop apologizing for being in this place again.  Instead of looking at this faltering as my failing, I'll look at is as a way of moving from one place of comfort to another limitless expanse of who You are- of who I am.  You, beautiful and wild, leading me fr

Emerging

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I can't give a reason why things go this way, why we seem to be wired for suffering.  I can try to explain the truth that I've come to know through the steep ways of my life and the hills I've had to climb.  I  feel like I can bring you hope borne out of my own suffering.  One year ago things changed for me.   I began a new journey that’s made such a remarkable difference I need to share it with you.   This kind of sounds like a sales pitch for a multilevel marketing scheme, but stick with me, I promise it’s not.   However, I should start at the beginning. For the majority of my life I’ve been able to tap into a certain melancholy that never seemed to lift.   Like walking a tight rope over a pit, I felt I was always on the verge of a misstep that would send me crashing to the bottom.   No matter the circumstances I found myself in, that fog of melancholy stayed with me.   Through the ages of 10-11 I experienced the illness and eventual passing of my mother, so it was alwa

burden

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Today is kind of an off day.  Sometimes I find it hard to stay in my "day box" and not start poking at the what-ifs of tomorrow.  I know this isn't  just true for me.  I got in my car and drove for awhile and spoke my own Psalms and Lamentations.  I feel lighter now.  Funny how the burden gets lifted when we say the dark thoughts out loud.  Praying them into light for our Father to hear. I hope that's how you are fighting today.  That you're speaking the darkness out of your own weary heart and letting the Father bear the weight of that burden. It's like a balm.  It's like handing your worry over to Him so He can carry it.  He's far stronger than we are, He can take it.  He's happy to.  He adores you.

Little

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Faithless with the little. Discontentment is a constant companion. Why is my faith so small and my need so great? I'm tired of my pettiness, my own voice grating on my frayed nerves.  Is there any rest for the one who waits on you? I am tired of lying here in my own self pity and frustration. Please come to my rescue.   I'm desperate for still waters. May I have the sense to sit still. To passionately wait for you in this quiet place. Wait passionately for  God , don’t leave the path. He’ll give you your place in the sun      while you watch the wicked lose it. Psalm 37:34

done

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I'm so tired of living this way.  Tired of giving something to you only to take it back up again when my gaze shifts to the trouble in front of me.  I'm painfully stubborn.  There is no way I can keep this up. I hear you whisper to me -  "Won't you just let me love you?" I'm running around in circles, trying to find the purpose and the constant.  I look to my own vices and solutions, one more feeble than the next.  I can barely put one foot in front of the other.  My back is hunched over from the weight of the monotony of trying to work things out down here. And still I hear your whisper- "Won't you just let me love you?" I'm short on patience and long on frustration.  My wants and wishes pile high around me and I complain that things aren't happening quickly enough.  In vain I stomp my feet and hold my breath like a toddler throwing a tantrum.  My emotions are large and I act out of the sudden rushing impulse, determined that I

vows

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All that I am. What I wish I was and wasn't. My missteps and do overs. My pettiness. My habit for sharing too much of myself. For not sharing enough. For putting myself ahead of everyone. The foolish lies I believe about myself.  Hook.  Line.  Sinker. I will not put up the wall of isolation and fear.  I will welcome You.  Like a child fully aware, dependent and confident in a parent's love I fall on Your G reat G lory.  I will allow Your love to be my security . I will allow who You say I am to fill me up to overflowing.  Living loved and freely. You, Who have  no beginning and no end, call to me.  Stop for me.   Notice me.  That You notice me is l ife .  You say the word and it is done.  Called into existence.  Not a far off, fairy tale thing, but a real flesh and blood truth.  I am the now- not an after or a before- a now.  I can learn to live in that newness  today .  I'll identify with You.  Trus

safe

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She sings softly confident in worship and her words cut to the quick.  Penetrating bone and marrow, into the deep.  God's very breath calling into the hidden of me, prompting me to step out of this place and into His light. I'm too easily contented.  Happier to be safe and comfortable than teetering on the unknown; heart racing, eyes wide and expectant.  I hear You call.  I sense it in the recesses of my soul that are covered and grown over with thick vine and weeds.  I do long for You to break me free of them and yet there is this stubborn part of me that will not surrender to the rearranging, life-giving, hurt-encompassing, death-releasing grace and love You offer.  I am lulled by my own state, unsure, uncertain, hesitant, blindly believing safety equals happiness. And still You call, gentle and kind.  Not like I've been told, not the god of my childhood, You're so much more than that frightening, demanding, "no-god". You, patient as I learn this, don