This Spirit, who breathed life into my bones, knows me so deeply that His knowing continually seeks me. His reckless love unashamedly collides with all that is in the way of who He made me to be, breaking off my self-preserving calcified crust and decimating my attempts to hold His love at arms length.
And like water that pushes aside mountains, His truth - implanted into my being before Time was birthed - surfaces from the deep; a creature of great age that breaks the waters like glass, bursting free and untamed.
I can attempt to avoid this inevitability. Bury it. Hide it. But the pursuit to silence that which has been set free is futile for again, He will run me down, chasing me with abandon, finding me and closetting me in His depths, releasing his soothing balm of Grace until I am floating in a sea of Redemption.
Oh, what sweet love is this: that the Maker of Time would waste so much of it on one who would strain at the boundaries of His love, thinking I am too far gone to receive it, flinching at True Love's touch.
Yet marred by the devestation of this earthly realm, untrusting and broken, I push away and inexplicably, He reaches again, washes again, fills again, restores again, forgives again, loves again, heals again, over and over and over and over... never sighing with exasperation or growling in frustration; never pulling me on a lead but gently coaxing me out of my malaise, knowing the final and beautiful outcome, never impatient to fulfil His plans.
And it's like discovering I've been holding my breath and not realising until I let it out. As I emerge from the waters that have drowned me in the bowels of my own dark seas.
In the moment when the Sun touches my soul and I relent, letting him heal my barren heart, setting it to beating again, igniting new life in what seemed surely to have died.
This is Grace: when finally I stop fighting and let His breath fill me, breaking out from under the seas of my past and taking hold of His gift.
This morning I woke with a song that my hubster has had on his playlist for a couple of months. It's called Shoulders, by For King and Country, a band we've recently come to love, and it was swirling around as I got my coffee and settled down for a little morning quiet time.
I don't always pick up my Bible in the mornings, but today I felt prompted. I flopped onto my pile of cushions in my little room and flipped it open. Psalm 121 jumped out at me, which, I realised about twenty minutes later, is the same scripture for the song Shoulders.
I'm writing an article on healthy and unhealthy attachments, in particular, to things/people/experiences from our past.
What do you find hardest to 'let go' of?
Message me your thoughts if you'd prefer. I'd love to know your thoughts, too.
I'll start: I find it really difficult to let go of past emotional connections, even to the point of certain aromas, sounds, images, photos, etc. re-triggering the feelings I had. Sometimes I forget that that connection is no longer in my life and it surfaces unexpectedly causing all sorts of memories, feelings and such.
Thanks for your participation,
I was so afraid to write sentences.
It was easier to pen short bursts of inspiration. Rhyme had reason and hid meaning well enough to entice the reader. Song had melody to fall back on, a brace that held an otherwise loose string of words.
Prose had nothing but itself. No scaffold. Naked. Alone. Bereft.
I try but she slips away, fluttering out of my reach.
I sit in the quiet -
Solitude can be overwhelming. We hear our deeper thoughts. They arise in the silence beckoning us to acknowledge them; wooing us to let the chaos go and settle with the core elements that make us who we are. This road is an uncomfortable one to walk on but when taken, produces great and deep change, awakening the best parts of us.
I write despite trying not to. I cry and bleed and laugh into the page. What you see is what you get.