A "Season of waiting."
In the quiet of the stillness, I have two options,
Either I dwell in the pit of my lonely brokenness,
Or,
I abide in the love of my Father's endlessness
Our life is a collection of choices,
Some good
Some bad.
It's up to us whether we grow or fall.
My heart is a gem, and my Father is its caretaker.
In everything I do, my heart is either made pure or else covered in grime.
My choice.
If I do not allow my caretaker to cleanse me, to breathe life into me,
I cannot shine for any to see.
My goal in life is not that I might be a light unto which all can see.
All I want is to be able to be the light in a single dark room.
In a pitch black world all it takes is a candle to bring illumination.
But I choose.
Do I let my flame be fed and nourished by the oxygen of the Living God,
or do I suffocate it, let it turn to coals?
These are the thoughts that coat my mind as I rest in this place of waiting.
Choices.
Do I choose weakness or strength?
The hardest thing I could ever do is let go entirely.
I am constantly falling, that's all this mortal life is.
But I choose where I fall.
Either I fall into the abyss of darkness, lonely agony in a world that only wants to tear me apart,
Or I fall into the arms of Jesus, constantly falling back into His embrace,
It's terrifying either way, but only one outcome is full of adventure, longing fulfilled,
Life Abundant.
If I choose strength, I fall into the abyss. I don't trust that my King can protect me, I believe in my own caretaking.
But all I've ever done is dropped and shattered my heart, a clumsy fool holding the delicate soul
Yet it's so terrifying to admit weakness. To hand over my glass heart to the only one who ever kept it safe.
And it is here, in the loneliness, that I gather up the pieces, all shattered from the "strength" I fought so hard for.
I hand them to Him, shame on my face and in the wake of my broken actions I have no choice but to admit weakness.
It hurts, and embarrassment courses through me, but as I am forced to accept how weak I am,
He heals the shattered pieces, restores them,
Embraces me and calls me His own.
In the moment of my greatest weakness, the strength of His arms upholds me
Falling.
Always falling,
But these days I'm learning that the fall is nothing to fear.
Weakness is my only strength, because it's Him, and all the strength and love in the universe, keeping me upheld.
I used to think my strength was my only savior, that if I just kept up a good face, seemed okay, everything would somehow end up like that.
Yet all that false strength ever did was bind me to my weakness, put up masks that defined me in a darkness that shadowed my very essence,
It was only by my weakness that the darkness lifted and I felt the light of day once more.
In the revelation of my reliance on Him, I find myself weaker than ever before,
Falling,
until my breathe runs dry and my eyes are finally opened, to stare into the face of my beloved.
One day peace will come, but until that day arrives,
we are always falling.
The abyss of love or death, one of those two things must embrace us, and it is only by falling continuously into His loving arms that we have the assurance of a hope unseen, the hope of peace and rest in His beautiful heart.
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