On Wednesday, I scribble a grocery list, load up kiddos and purse and diaper bag, and make the trek to Costco. I walk the massive aisles with my kiddos, grab oatmeal and milk, half-n-half and coffee because I’m going through the latter two these days like they’re going out of style.
About halfway through my grocery list, I run into one of my dearest friends. She’s a refuge for my heart, and seeing her unplanned like this is a kiss from Jesus — a tangible reminder that I’m seen and cared for by the One who made me.
Who is continually making me.
These days, I spiral in ever-deepening circles around this mystery inside me – this never-ending forming of Christ in my innermost places.
What’re you doing now, Lord? On this day? Your Hand moves quiet inside me, shaping, carving, and I long to slow down enough to notice Your work. To gaze on it like one watches in awe while a great Artist slowly, precisely creates His masterpiece.
Archaeology of souls is an art, see? And He is the Expert Excavator.
First thing this morning as I pour my groggy thoughts into my morning pages, I sense the question He whispers from within: What do you want Me to do for you?
And I’m utterly lacking in eloquence as I ramble on to Him about how desperately I want His life and light and Kingship to expand inside me till I’m completely His, as I scrawl prayers about my desire to be a bearer of Life wherever I go.
A bearer of life.
I splay it wide before Him — my desperation to be centered, grounded in Him, so much so that my gaze penetrates the false exteriors around me, and I’m resourced with wisdom to quietly declare life, light, insight, awakening into the deepest hearts of those He puts before me.
That’s what I long for.
And in order to live this way, in order to stand as a midwife of hearts, as a witness to the coming out of true selves — I must first move slowly enough in my own life to notice and embrace the nuances of His movements in my depths.
His carving. His refining. His uncovering beauty and darkness alike.
And on this Day 9 of intentionally digging deep(er) here, taking time and investing energy to wrap words around my most authentic heart, I need to tell you that with each passing day, I see my insecurity more clearly.
Offering to you pieces of my heart in words, day after day, is one of the more vulnerable things I’ve done.
I feel exposed. Undone. My limits strip me of my ability to write my best, to offer you — or Him, or myself — a polished picture of who I am.
But the sense of exposure, and seeing new levels of my desire for approval — they are compelling me into His presence that covers, holds, and accepts my every part.
The further I press into my depths to each day bare before you places where soil is yet unturned, the more of my own strength slides off my shoulders, and I find myself weak, naked, poor, and in need.
And I’m drawn by Him to cease my efforts to cling to the fringes of that cloak, to pull it back over me — invited instead to be still in the discomfort of this acute, gaping awareness of my weakness.
So it’s out of my need that I write again today. Out of this heap of all my deconstructed scaffolds and props.
And I pray that somehow, somewhere between all these mixed metaphors, you’ll witness His strength being made perfect, His beauty filling in my multitude of gaps.
Because I believe in my gut it’s His purpose and desire to make His heart known, to me and to you, in all this deconstructing, all this stripping down.
He must increase; I must decrease. And it’s in the decreasing that I’ll fully live.
Yes, Jesus. Let it be. For your glory.
This is Day 9 of a 31-Day series. You can find the rest of the series here.
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