I am flesh, struggling to secure the control over my life. And I clear forgot.
He is my Master. Master of my soul.
And here I’ve been trying to manage it anyways. I’ve given Him the steering wheel, but told Him which way I’d prefer Him to turn me.
Surrender comes when, not just the heart, but even the thoughts, the desires, and the plans are His alone.
Sometimes words are like the snowflakes this morning, evading my tongue. So, I borrowed a few words from the people who catch them well and root them deep into others’ hearts.
“Where is now the Lord God of Elijah? He is waiting for Elijah to call on Him!” –James Gilmour
“We will have all of eternity to celebrate the victories, and only a few hours before sunset in which to win them.” –Amy Carmichael
“I grieve that my love is no stronger, and that I am no more like Him. I wonder at His glory, and sink before Him with shame. How is it that the soul being of such value, and God so great, eternity so near and yet we are so little moved?” –William Bramwell
It’s early morning and I’m a robot, praying. My words are good, perfect, beautiful. But, I’m not really praying anything. My mind is still in my pillow, in my textbooks, in my schedule. Does God care to hear what I really want to say? Since when do we feel the need to hide where we’re really at? I feel like Adam and Eve. My heart is fully exposed; God sees how distracted I am, but I’m too afraid to tell Him. Doesn’t He just want to pull us back into His peace, back into focus?
I haven’t gone home this month. It’s Monday and I can only think of the weekend.
What will it take for us to finally notice the moments that we’re actually in? Moments: the small things that add up to so much time, so many gifts. Will we throw them, still wrapped, into yesterday’s trash? When did the present become the past that it no longer holds any wonder, any mystery, any awe?
I’m alone in the practice room with the baby grand sleeping quietly, its white and black keys exposed.
Skin meets ivory. Fingertips fly down passage-ways of keys.
My roommate hums while she washes china plates. She sings in the shower. We laugh about it together.
I read later how David made music.
Isn’t that how Christians should be known? Why can’t we be the ones who make music, or even noise? The joy we have in our hearts explode into songs of happiness.
How thankful I am that I am not Jesus.
And the globe freezes over once more. I crack its crystal puddles with my boots as I walk, the snow blowing down in small hard balls. Sometimes my heart is so hard too. How often do I really listen to the still small voice? I talk a lot, ask a lot, but do I listen a lot?
Eyes open to darkness, mixed with the soft green glow of my roommate’s alarm clock. The floor is cool against my toes. The rain is steadily pressing itself into the dirt outside my window, the blackness of night’s end hiding the raindrops’ effect on the winter ground.
And the closing of the first week of school brings one thought: God is love. All I want is His love watering my soul, spilling over. Rain on me, Lord Jesus.
It’s the eve before a new year and I am terrified. I’m scared to throw open the age old door and beckon the the days and months into my life. What is it about the future that knits my stomach into knots? The year could bring so many things: death, life, trials, achievements, happiness or sadness. I guess its the hard things that scare me. When I peek down the dark alleyway of a new year, I wonder about the trials that I’ll face.
But, what Christian need wonder? I know only this: “I AM”.
The year ahead is a vein pumping life into my soul. Whatever befalls, the Lord…is. Need we have another care?
So, I think about one word. What is it I want Him to mold into my soul this year?
Contentment. Peace. I want to be right where I am.
So, I peek again into the blackness behind the door. Then, I throw it wide and the year shines with His glorious light, seeping into my every day, every hour, every moment.
The candles are angels, shadows of the glory of the greater God. They flicker yellow calm through the warm kitchen. The tree is wrapped up in light.
Why the discontent in hearts then?
I travel home one snowy evening before Christmas, carols and laughter echoing in my ears. And I don’t say anything, but he does, gripping the steering wheel with one finger.
“People are so unhappy until they learn to accept change. I remember when I was your age, and I thought I just had to grin and bear it until I got past university. Then everything would settle out and be okay. But, the decisions just get harder, you know. You have to learn now that the only constant thing about life is change. Until you embrace it, you will be very unhappy.”
I cringe. There’s an empty seat at our table this Christmas. What if I saw the empty chair as a place for a new guest or an opportunity for new memories?
The first Christmas was one of change, the whole world turning over in its sleep and opening its glazed eyes to the birth of God’s Son. And there’s one other constant thing besides change: Jesus. So, as Christmas is different this year, find contentment not in the traditions and the comforts, but in the reason for these gifts. Contentment HIMself.
golden clay 