Journal entry.
Can I meet you here? At the end of myself. In the midst of this battle. The condemning and the shame. And the work. So hard on myself. The striving to get it right. To please You. Can I meet You here-where I don't want to go on like this. Looking at me, like this. At You, like this. You really didn't get angry at them for their fruit in the end-but mostly for not believing You. Not believing You'd go with them. Not believing in the victory. Did they want You? Did they not want to go up where the glory was? To see You? I don't understand. They couldn't change their own perspective- so how could it have gone differently? Was it their focus? Their hearts' desires? God, I don't want to go back to Egypt where I'll be without You. I don't ever want You to leave me- You're my life source. Without You I am nothing- life is nothing. I don't want to lose focus or lose You. I don't want unbelief. Doubt. I don't know how to fully step over. Complete belief. I know the other is killing me. It's confusion and torment. Tossed by waves. Would You meet me here where I come uncovered. Scared. Filthy. Confused. Ashamed. Weak. Tired. Striving. Prideful. Fearful. Places of unbelief and misunderstanding. Anger. Judge-mental. Selfish. Unworthy of You, it seems. I don't understand Your love-would You please meet me here? I don't want it to be my works. Manipulation is to work with our own hands. Control. Please know, underneath my broken, corrupt heart- I want it all to be Your Holy Spirit working in me. And through me. Not my own mind- but Yours. And I know I need Your Spirit for that. Would You meet me here and reveal Your truth to me. As I bring myself as an offering at Your feet. Where I need Your hand to breakthrough my chest and tenderly hold my heart. Meet me where I feel like You don't want me. Because I see my sin and motives and man pleasing spirit. And I know You see it too! Acts, decisions, words that come out of me. And so I don't believe. That YOU love ME. Please meet me here where I exhale all these things. I need to know Your love- really know it. Or my words are empty. Confused hope for someone else. Meet me here where I confess that I need Your love so badly. To wash over me. Here, where I want to believe, that is what You want. That You're not fed up or sick of me. But that You're dying to love me. You're dying to meet me here. Where I bring my filthy rags. And that You love me right where I'm at. Not for what I do. But that I'm empowered by Your love to do Your will and produce Your fruit. I need to know that You love this heart. But despise the sin. The sin that I can separate myself from. That, I don't have to consider it me. That it's the sin You don't love- so we don't have to be afraid to let it be exposed. We don't have to protect it. Meet me here where I lay at Your feet. And reveal to me the cross and the blood that makes me white as snow. Reveal to me what it meant that Jesus already took the punishment for the filthy sin that I despise. The sin that keeps me from drawing near to You. Help me to come to the cross. Where I can be washed. Emptied. And set on fire for You. Burning with your Holy Love. The love that drove Jesus to Calvary and the love that made Him a willing lamb. Knowing and believing in the resurrection. In the Promise Land. Believing that You, go with Him- not to be afraid to die. To be a sacrifice. God, I'm afraid to sacrifice it all. Afraid to die- to let my selfishness and flesh go. Afraid to give up trying to control out of fear. Not trusting an believing that You won't forsake me. That trusting is much better than what I'm holding onto to. Would You loosen my fingers. This often tight grip. Nudge me into battle. It is Your love that makes me like Brave, David. Not afraid of the enemy and the armies that wanted to destroy him and now me. Your love drives me into the fight, confident of the win. Your love tells me that each time we go together there is new deliverance. There are so many areas where "ites" occupy my land. And I just need a spy to tell me that we are well able to overcome because You go with us. I'm tired of feeling like a grasshopper, because I think it has to be off my own strength. What I really don't believe is that You still love me. Sometimes I'm afraid to go because I'm afraid You left me. Please meet me here where my hands are up and my eyes are closed tight and I'm crying out. Willing for You to expose all idols. Keep me here. Don't let me run thinking You'll abandon me. How can I ever be pleasing if I don't come. Raw. And let You love this broken heart. End.
You know, I'm not so sure David was always speaking naturally when he wrote his psalms.
TLH
Can I meet you here? At the end of myself. In the midst of this battle. The condemning and the shame. And the work. So hard on myself. The striving to get it right. To please You. Can I meet You here-where I don't want to go on like this. Looking at me, like this. At You, like this. You really didn't get angry at them for their fruit in the end-but mostly for not believing You. Not believing You'd go with them. Not believing in the victory. Did they want You? Did they not want to go up where the glory was? To see You? I don't understand. They couldn't change their own perspective- so how could it have gone differently? Was it their focus? Their hearts' desires? God, I don't want to go back to Egypt where I'll be without You. I don't ever want You to leave me- You're my life source. Without You I am nothing- life is nothing. I don't want to lose focus or lose You. I don't want unbelief. Doubt. I don't know how to fully step over. Complete belief. I know the other is killing me. It's confusion and torment. Tossed by waves. Would You meet me here where I come uncovered. Scared. Filthy. Confused. Ashamed. Weak. Tired. Striving. Prideful. Fearful. Places of unbelief and misunderstanding. Anger. Judge-mental. Selfish. Unworthy of You, it seems. I don't understand Your love-would You please meet me here? I don't want it to be my works. Manipulation is to work with our own hands. Control. Please know, underneath my broken, corrupt heart- I want it all to be Your Holy Spirit working in me. And through me. Not my own mind- but Yours. And I know I need Your Spirit for that. Would You meet me here and reveal Your truth to me. As I bring myself as an offering at Your feet. Where I need Your hand to breakthrough my chest and tenderly hold my heart. Meet me where I feel like You don't want me. Because I see my sin and motives and man pleasing spirit. And I know You see it too! Acts, decisions, words that come out of me. And so I don't believe. That YOU love ME. Please meet me here where I exhale all these things. I need to know Your love- really know it. Or my words are empty. Confused hope for someone else. Meet me here where I confess that I need Your love so badly. To wash over me. Here, where I want to believe, that is what You want. That You're not fed up or sick of me. But that You're dying to love me. You're dying to meet me here. Where I bring my filthy rags. And that You love me right where I'm at. Not for what I do. But that I'm empowered by Your love to do Your will and produce Your fruit. I need to know that You love this heart. But despise the sin. The sin that I can separate myself from. That, I don't have to consider it me. That it's the sin You don't love- so we don't have to be afraid to let it be exposed. We don't have to protect it. Meet me here where I lay at Your feet. And reveal to me the cross and the blood that makes me white as snow. Reveal to me what it meant that Jesus already took the punishment for the filthy sin that I despise. The sin that keeps me from drawing near to You. Help me to come to the cross. Where I can be washed. Emptied. And set on fire for You. Burning with your Holy Love. The love that drove Jesus to Calvary and the love that made Him a willing lamb. Knowing and believing in the resurrection. In the Promise Land. Believing that You, go with Him- not to be afraid to die. To be a sacrifice. God, I'm afraid to sacrifice it all. Afraid to die- to let my selfishness and flesh go. Afraid to give up trying to control out of fear. Not trusting an believing that You won't forsake me. That trusting is much better than what I'm holding onto to. Would You loosen my fingers. This often tight grip. Nudge me into battle. It is Your love that makes me like Brave, David. Not afraid of the enemy and the armies that wanted to destroy him and now me. Your love drives me into the fight, confident of the win. Your love tells me that each time we go together there is new deliverance. There are so many areas where "ites" occupy my land. And I just need a spy to tell me that we are well able to overcome because You go with us. I'm tired of feeling like a grasshopper, because I think it has to be off my own strength. What I really don't believe is that You still love me. Sometimes I'm afraid to go because I'm afraid You left me. Please meet me here where my hands are up and my eyes are closed tight and I'm crying out. Willing for You to expose all idols. Keep me here. Don't let me run thinking You'll abandon me. How can I ever be pleasing if I don't come. Raw. And let You love this broken heart. End.
You know, I'm not so sure David was always speaking naturally when he wrote his psalms.
TLH
мне нравится, класно
ReplyDelete