This is me.
Small child,
sitting on Grandma’s knee as she sang “hide it under a bushel.”
No way I’d
be telling stories about it now;
No way I’d
be talking about how
love came
down for me without a hand constantly guiding me.
Left to my
own devices, I find myself in a state of constant crisis,
a juggling
act as I balance what I want and what He wants for me.
This is me.
A cornucopia
of the finest is before me,
but I keep
reaching for the fruit from the wrong tree.
Brother and
sister, we never really fought-
spent
Sundays listening to a man tell us that our lives had been bought,
and now we
live not for ourselves but for the one who’s image we bear.
I still
remember that day we stood in the water at the front of the church.
We both were
baptized. J went first.
I had a
childlike faith, but I also behaved just like a child.
This is me.
I’d be
laughing with my friends in the church pew- third row on the left.
Grandma
would turn and give me that stare.
I’d
straighten up, especially when Grandpa would start to
lead the congregation in
prayer.
I took it
for granted sometimes.
Oh what a
life!
My biggest
obstacles were the ones that I created
when I confused truths for lies.
In an effort
to fit in, I would go with the flow.
I’d just nod
in agreement, instead of seeking counsel from the wise.
“But, I’m a
good person”, I’d remind myself so much.
I read the
Bible, but I wouldn’t share its good news,
using fear and shyness as a crutch.
This is me.
At 17 and
summertime, sitting in a large room, full of kids and leaders-
someone
walked up and said I had a call.
It was one
of those times when your heart hurts for your loved ones
and you wish
you could be there with them all.
Moments
later, walking back inside,
a hundred voices sang a song that calmed me as I
cried.
There is just
something about a word fitly spoken-
the kind
that are used to gently lift the broken.
It was a moment
where the peace that passes understanding,
that I’d heard about before,
overwhelmed me
while I fell, and provided a soft, cushioned landing.
I never felt
such a nearness in all of my days,
and it was
then that I knew I had no choice but to fully surrender to His ways.
This is me.
I followed
my brother to college.
I thought I
had acquired all of the knowledge to get along in this world,
but I still
questioned my purpose.
If my life
had been bought,
and now I live not for myself but for the one who’s image I
bear,
why do I
feel so worthless?
Sitting in
an upstairs room, full of college students and leaders,
I heard a
man read a verse from the book of Jeremiah.
I rolled my
eyes and let out a sigh as he read,
“For I know
the plans I have for you…”
I had heard
it all before. It wasn’t anything new.
I wrestled
and argued for years inside,
“Show me
Your plans if that really is true!”
Seeking
approval and clear-cut pathways,
I clearly missed the point of it all.
I’d asked
for His guidance, but failed at abidance.
Holding on
to things that made sense to me, I couldn’t see
that He was
laying out opportunity after opportunity
for me to see His hand in things.
I tried in
different ways to make my heart content,
and I still find myself trying today, because
my heart is naturally bent.
Naturally
bent to go my own way,
when I don’t
seek Him every day,
I play the
comparison game.
Then I’m
reminded
that my life
has been bought through His death on a cross.
I count it
all as loss,
Because He
said that I was worth it.
In all of my
shortcomings;
in all of my
scrambling to do something with this life,
He takes
such great care.
All of my
burdens He will surely bare for me just as He has promised.
I find solace from the Psalmist.
“Return to your rest, my soul,
for the Lord has been good to you.
For you, Lord, have
delivered me from death,
my eyes from tears,
my feet from stumbling,
that I may walk before the Lord
in the land of the living.”
This is me.
This is where I’ve landed,
But I never really land.
In times of doubt,
I’m reminded that He holds each of us in the palm of His
hand.
(Jer. 29:11, Psalm 116:7-9, Phil. 3:8)
No comments:
Post a Comment