I wake up early. Too early I think. My brain’s still trying to unravel my dream, separate the uglies from reality. No, my husband doesn’t have a problem with that any more. And yes, he still loves me. But ok, I’ll say a quick prayer for his strengthening.
I watch him under the glow of the digital clock, his chest rising and falling, his snores gentle for once. Why am I awake?
I feel the pull of the Spirit. In the same way hunger awakens me after a workout, some part of me, my spirit I think, starts to hunger for the Author of Life.
My Daily Bread
“Jesus.” Friend, you know how you say His name and it lightens you? I say His name. I tell Him I want to grow. I think the prayer with a groan, silent and pressing. I’m aware of the places I need to grow. Too many. As I pray them, they begin to increase, multiply like the loaves of bread and fishes. Strangely, I feel lighter as I release these multiplying weaknesses. I’m aware how they’ve been shrinking over the years, in the dryer of prayer. I’m also aware how my eyes see more flaws that need repaired in my inner fabric. That’s because I’ve been slowly learning to look through the light in the Tailor’s eyes.
If it weren’t for the white-noise-maker beside my bed, I’d hear the birds outside, God’s little role models that peep peep peep a musical sermon to teach me not worry. I used to wish I was a bird, shamelessly singing, beautifully flying, feathery light. But God made me a bird with skin on. His bird. His imperfect big bird. I laugh quietly when I think of myself as big bird. My eyes swing to my husband again, my big Snuffleupagus.
My Wine
I don’t know how my mind does this, but Sesame Street flies away, and I’m smack in the heavy weights of the day. My children. I’ve been planting prayer seeds ad nauseam, waiting for God to make them to grow. “Grow!” my spirit wants to scream. I wonder if God wants to scream at me that way. I wish He would because then growth would instantly happen. Instead of shriveling up like the fig tree, all my shriveled parts would suddenly fill with the turgidity of His commanding word. I would rise tall and stretch out my branchy arms for the world to see.
Broken
I gasp because this image makes me remember. Death is the only way to new growth. His death, his outstretched arms, His place of surrender ~ all these all point to what my growth posture needs to be. Trust and surrender.
What do I need to die to today, Lord? You hover over my spirit, and I’m ready to follow. Speak to me, and strengthen me to obey. Satan keeps taunting me about my one thousand lacks, reminding me of the natural impossibility of my dreams. But I hear you say, “walk supernaturally. With me, all things are possible. One day at a time, Child. Rest in my shadow, and I will show you step by step, exactly where you need to grow.”
Psalm 17:15 “When I awake, I will see you face to face and be satisfied.”
What do you think?
Does your mind shift from worry to worry? Do you regularly flip-flop from your flesh to His Spirit and back? What helps you focus?
Does the enemy taunt your dreams? What do you feel God wants to say to you about growth today?
What a lovely devotional heart you have, Cheryl! I waste so much of God’s gift of time on the trivialities of this world. Not nearly enough time is spent in praising, praying and powerfully engaging the enemy of our time, foolish distractions sent to have us chasing one rabbit after another down empty dark holes.
God hears your prayers about your children. Keep knocking and the doors to their hearts shall be opened. Even now I pray for my only surviving nuclear family member, a daughter of 27, who does not know Jesus by heart, only by mind.
I wonder how much of His love she has seen in me. I know I can do so much better with His gifts and His word buried deep inside me. I need to gulp and gorge myself on His love letters and commands. Pray for faithfulness to do and not to say “if only I had…”
Linda Greer
Dr. Linda, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your comments. I sometimes wonder if people are even reading these. This post came to me so quick ‘n easy when I woke up, and bam – I posted. Then, in my usual insecurity, I thought, “Boy, I don’t know if that even made sense. I thought I was being led by your Spirit, but…” I turned that brain blip into a prayer. “Lord, please make this fresh air to somebody today. Pleeease…” Yeah, I’m a bit of a beggar.
Linda, I’m going to pray for you today. And for your daughter. You know, she’s blessed to have you, a mother who’s as imperfect as any of us, but a mother who loves so deeply.
God bless you!
Don’t stop praying once you run out of things you want. Prayer is as much listening (‘meditation’) as it is talking, as much a sharing as it is a plea for help. Yet, God has asked us (even dared us?) to ask. Nothing’s too small, too big, too hard, or for that matter too twisted by our selfishness or lack of perception, for God to hear our prayer and take account of it.
Quite true, Mercadeo. God wants us to bring it all to Him because He cares about every detail. Blessings in His presence.