safe

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't withhold a thing from me as my picture of who You are turns from a blurry, raging insecure and hurting deity to beautiful, loving, set-apart Lover of all of that I am.  Whispering quietly to the hurts I carry, I uncurl my clenched fists and reach for the warmth of Your hand.