Tonight

Tonight I am...
   Enjoying being alone
   Hoping I don't get the stomach flu that is going through my family
   Resting
   Drinking dark chocolate cocoa with chocolate caramel creamer out of a Christmas mug
   Snuggling up in my hoodie with a fuzzy blue blanket
   Planning for Christmas
   Listening to the wind sneak in my window
   Thinking about life, my life in particular
   Asking God questions
Questions about my life and my future - Distant and near. Tangible and abstract. Plausible... and preposterously grand.

God seems quiet tonight, slightly contemplative as well. At any rate, He doesn't seem inclined to tell secrets about the future. So I am left to wonder. I still question.

I had this odd mental picture earlier of my choices laid out in three columns on a page. The first column is titled "What I would like to do this semester" the second, "What seems like the reasonable choice/what others want me to do this semester" and the third, "What God wants me to do this semester."

The first is filled out something like this: Simplify. Keep my room clean and keep up with laundry. Help Mom around the house. Sleep. Be available for coffee with friends. Babysit for some stresses mothers. Name a day of the week and Date With God Day and never compromise that. Spend time in prayer. Blog. Catch up on my book list. Write letters. Go for walks. Breathe. Rest. Be. NOT do college. NOT be busy. NOT have emotional and physical break downs because of stress.

The second looks like this: Work at CHESS. Teach two classes on Wednesdays. Figure out what college credit I have, what I need, and take whatever classes I can to help me finish my degree as soon as possible. (Aka - be stressed, cry a lot, and never get enough sleep.)

The third column looks like this:


Maybe I'm lazy. Maybe busyness and stress are just a part of life. It's how everyone lives, right?
Maybe I'm afraid. Afraid of stress. Afraid of failure. Afraid of missing Life in the busyness.

Yet there is something in me that recoils at the thought of doing what is expected of me, of doing what everyone else does. I want to be different. To go against the flow. To be willing to do eccentric and nonsensical things for God. I want to be like Able, and Noah, and Moses, and Abraham, and Esther, and Ruth, and David, and Benaiah, and Gidion, and Zaccheaus. I want to do what is out of the ordinary- what is extraordinary. I'm afraid of being normal, nominal, mediocre. Still, even these great heros of faith weren't always different, it wasn't that everything they did was shocking and abnormal. They simply knew when to break the mold and follow a different path. How did they know?

Really, I just want to hear from God. If He's talking, I can't hear Him. Sometimes I wish He'd speak up.
But really, really, I know that all I can do is wait, and trust that God will give me answers in His timing. In all honesty that is all I can do, no matter how much I pretend I can do more.

So tonight I will wait, and rest, and anticipate... and ask questions. Who knows, maybe He'll get in a talkative mood if I sit here long enough.

Thankfulness

This Life we are called to live, it is good.

This God we know and serve, He is good.

I swivel my chair from side to side - thinking. I find it hard to believe that one girl could be so, so blessed. My heart is crying just thinking about it, and I am thankful. My God loves me.

August was a phenomenal month. God tore me open in so many ways, and then turned around and healed me. He spoke truth and direction and encouragement. I am recognizing again the value of hard times. The beauty in brokenness. The unspeakable joy in pain. The peace of God in confusion. It is such a perfect place to be. As I have talked to friends who have been going through hard things themselves I see it in them too. It is exciting. God is at work and that usually means ripping away masks, pulling down walls, and thrusting outside of comfort zones… but it is so exciting!

I have been thinking lately about the exceptional group of friends I have. I have talked to quite a few people recently who have a "good group of friends" but nothing like the encouraging group of girls I have who make me smile and laugh so easily, are the first to call me on an error, will not let me believe for a moment that it's ok to give up or live a mediocre life, point me to God with every breath, love me no matter what, and love God so much more.

My family is amazing. I know people say that about their families all the time, but I've been realizing it afresh about mine. My parents are so balanced and trusting and fun and wise. They let me live my life, but want to be a part of it. They are great fun to have discussions with about deep topics. They let me make my own choices but are always there to offer advice. They treat me as if they enjoy being around me. My brothers are pretty amazing too. Jon is the one I can always be real with and will never freak out. He intuitively knows when I'm having a bad day. He balances my impetuous and passionate ideas and always makes me feel loved. Ben makes me laugh. He has deep thoughts to share and is passionate about important things. He loves to have fun and we plan to buy guns and learn to dance together amidst our crazy school schedules. The little guys are just a blast to hang out with and will not be "the little guys" much longer.

I sit here and bask in the joy and amazement of my blessings. It's such a warm feeling. But I don't want to just sit here. I want to use it. "To whom much is given much more shall be required." I have a dream. I have a vision. I have something worth working toward. Something I feel God has called me to. I want to use what I have been given to pour the love and power of Jesus Christ into the lives of others.

What does that look like? I have some ideas. I should blog about them soon.

May the Lamb who was slain receive the reward for His suffering.

It started out so simply.
God started telling me that there were some things that were getting in the way of my effectiveness and relationship with Him. He gave me things to cut back on... time on the phone with my dear friends, "my time" to unwind and chat and surf Facebook, etc. He said that I was too scattered, that He wanted my focus to be here at home.
I could handle that, in fact I agreed.
Then we took it a step farther and a couple friends and I decided to declare the month of August scared to God. We made a list of distractions to avoid, as well as a list of things we wanted to put extra time and energy into such as prayer, studying out some issues we had questions about, time with God, and time with our families.
I was excited about it. I so wanted God to show up in an amazing way as I eliminated distractions and truly dedicated my time to seeking Him. I started asking God to teach us faith, allow us to experience brokenness, to take away all attachment to the world, and to have His heart for others.
I meant it. I wanted Him to do big things.
And then He did.
And that was when it got hard.
He asked me to give up the one thing that I am most attached to.
That's like Him, isn't it? To take us at our word and give us what we ask for? I know that He wants me to be set apart to Him even more than I do.
But... oh, it hurts.
But I still say yes. I still ask Him to push forward. It's come to the point of closing my eyes and simply hanging on for dear life, trying to ignore the emotions. Gritting my teeth and begging Him to cut deeper... and to do it quick before I chicken out again.
That part from Tozer's book that I shared in my last post has so challenged me. I do not want to allow anything to take the place of my God on the throne of my heart. That seems so much more horrible than simply backing off on things that were cutting down on my effectiveness. But that is the reality of it. I am realizing how many time the pronouns "my" and "mine" show up in my vocabulary. And those are the things God is asking for.

I open my hands.
Take them, Father, take them.
I want YOU more.
.... And please make me able to bear it.

The Blessedness of Possessing Nothing

The Blessedness of Possessing Nothing- The Pursuit of God by A. W. Tozer

Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kindgom of heaven. - Matt. 5:3

Before the Lord God made man upon the earth He first prepared for him by creating a world of useful and pleasant things for his sustenance and delight. In the Genesis account of the creation these are called simply "things." They were made for man's uses, but they were meant always to be external to the man and subservient to him. In the deep heart of the man was a shrine where none but God was worthy to come. Within him was God; without, a thousand gifts which God had showered upon him.

But sin has introduced complications and has made those very gifts of God a potential source of ruin to the soul.

Our woes began when God was forced out of His central shrine and "things" were allowed to enter. Within the human heart "things" have taken over. Men have now by nature no peace within their hearts, for God is crowned there no longer, but there in the moral dusk stubborn and aggressive usurpers fight among themselves for first place on the throne.

This is not a mere metaphor, but an accurate analysis of our real spiritual trouble. There is within the human heart a tough fibrous root of fallen life whose nature is to possess, always to possess. It covets "things" with a deep and fierce passion. The pronouns "my" and "mine" look innocent enough in print, but their constant and universal use is significant. They express the real nature of the old Adamic man better than a thousand volumes of theology could do. They are verbal symptoms of our deep disease. The roots of our hearts have grown down into things, and we dare not pull up one rootlet lest we die. Things have become necessary to us, a development never originally intended. God's gifts now take the place of God, and the whole course of nature is upset by the monstrous substitution.

Our Lord referred to this tyranny of things when He said to His disciples, "If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me. For whosoever will save his life shall lose it: and whosoever shall lose his life for my sake shall find it."

Breaking this truth into fragments for our better understanding, it would seem that there is within each of us an enemy which we tolerate at our peril. Jesus called it "life" and "self," or as we would say, the selflife. Its chief characteristic is its possessiveness: the words "gain" and "profit" suggest this. To allow this enemy to live is in the end to lose everything. To repudiate it and give up all for Christ's sake is to lose nothing at last, but to preserve everything unto life eternal. And possibly also a hint is given here as to the only effective way to destroy this foe: it is by the Cross. "Let him take up his cross and follow me."

The way to deeper knowledge of God is through the lonely valleys of soul poverty and abnegation of all things. The blessed ones who possess the Kingdom are they who have repudiated every external thing and have rooted from their hearts all sense of possessing. These are the "poor in spirit." They have reached an inward state paralleling the outward circumstances of the common beggar in the streets of Jerusalem; that is what the word "poor" as Christ used it actually means. These blessed poor are no longer slaves to the tyranny of things. They have broken the yoke of the oppressor; and this they have done not by fighting but by surrendering. Though free from all sense of possessing, they yet possess all things. "Theirs is the kingdom of heaven."

Let me exhort you to take this seriously. It is not to be understood as mere Bible teaching to be stored away in the mind along with an inert mass of other doctrines. It is a marker on the road to greener pastures, a path chiseled against the steep sides of the mount of God. We dare not try to by-pass it if we would follow on in this holy pursuit. We must ascend a step at a time. If we refuse one step we bring our progress to an end.

As is frequently true, this New Testament principle of spiritual life finds its best illustration in the Old Testament. In the story of Abraham and Isaac we have a dramatic picture of the surrendered life as well as an excellent commentary on the first Beatitude.

Abraham was old when Isaac was born, old enough indeed to have been his grandfather, and the child became at once the delight and idol of his heart. From that moment when he first stooped to take the tiny form awkwardly in his arms he was an eager love slave of his son. God went out of His way to comment on the strength of this affection. And it is not hard to understand. The baby represented everything sacred to his father's heart: the promises of God, the covenants, the hopes of the years and the long messianic dream. As he watched him grow from babyhood to young manhood the heart of the old man was knit closer and closer with the life of his son, till at last the relationship bordered upon the perilous. It was then that God stepped in to save both father and son from the consequences of an uncleansed love.

"Take now thy son," said God to Abraham, "thine only son Isaac, whom thou lovest, and get thee into the land of Moriah; and offer him there for a burnt-offering upon one of the mountains which I will tell thee of." The sacred writer spares us a close-up of the agony that night on the slopes near Beersheba when the aged man had it out with his God, but respectful imagination may view in awe the bent form and convulsive wrestling alone under the stars. Possibly not again until a Greater than Abraham wrestled in the Garden of Gethsemane did such mortal pain visit a human soul. If only the man himself might have been allowed to die. That would have been easier a thousand times, for he was old now, and to die would have been no great ordeal for one who had walked so long with God. Besides, it would have been a last sweet pleasure to let his dimming vision rest upon the figure of his stalwart son who would live to carry on the Abrahamic line and fulfill in himself the promises of God made long before in Ur of the Chaldees.

How should he slay the lad! Even if he could get the consent of his wounded and protesting heart, how could he reconcile the act with the promise, "In Isaac shall thy seed be called"? This was Abraham's trial by fire, and he did not fail in the crucible. While the stars still shone like sharp white points above the tent where the sleeping Isaac lay, and long before the gray dawn had begun to lighten the east, the old saint had made up his mind. He would offer his son as God had directed him to do, and then trust God to raise him from the dead. This, says the writer to the Hebrews, was the solution his aching heart found sometime in the dark night, and he rose "early in the morning" to carry out the plan. It is beautiful to see that, while he erred as to God's method, he had correctly sensed the secret of His great heart. And the solution accords well with the New Testament Scripture, "Whosoever will lose for my sake shall find."

God let the suffering old man go through with it up to the point where He knew there would be no retreat, and then forbade him to lay a hand upon the boy. To the wondering patriarch He now says in effect, "It's all right, Abraham. I never intended that you should actually slay the lad. I only wanted to remove him from the temple of your heart that I might reign unchallenged there. I wanted to correct the perversion that existed in your love. Now you may have the boy, sound and well. Take him and go back to your tent. Now I know that thou fearest God, seeing that thou bast not withheld thy son, thine only son, from me."

Then heaven opened and a voice was heard saying to him, "By myself have I sworn, saith the Lord, for because thou hast done this thing, and bast not withheld thy son, thine only son: that in blessing I will bless thee, and in multiplying I will multiply thy seed as the stars of the heaven, and as the sand which is `upon the sea shore; and thy seed shall possess the gate of his enemies; and in thy seed shall all the nations of the earth be blessed; because thou hast obeyed my voice.

The old man of God lifted his head to respond to the Voice, and stood there on the mount strong and pure and grand, a man marked out by the Lord for special treatment, a friend and favorite of the Most High. Now he was a man wholly surrendered, a man utterly obedient, a man who possessed nothing. He had concentrated his all in the person of his dear son, and God had taken it from him. God could have begun out on the margin of Abraham's life and worked inward to the center; He chose rather to cut quickly to the heart and have it over in one sharp act of separation. In dealing thus He practiced an economy of means and time. It hurt cruelly, but it was effective.

I have said that Abraham possessed nothing. Yet was not this poor man rich? Everything he had owned before was his still to enjoy: sheep, camels, herds, and goods of every sort. He had also his wife and his friends, and best of all he had his son Isaac safe by his side. He had everything, but he possessed nothing. There is the spiritual secret. There is the sweet theology of the heart which can be learned only in the school of renunciation. The books on systematic theology overlook this, but the wise will understand.

After that bitter and blessed experience I think the words "my" and "mine" never had again the same meaning for Abraham. The sense of possession which they connote was gone from his heart. Things had been cast out forever. They had now become external to the man. His inner heart was free from them. The world said, "Abraham is rich," but the aged patriarch only smiled. He could not explain it to them, but he knew that he owned nothing, that his real treasures were inward and eternal.

There can be no doubt that this possessive clinging to things is one of the most harmful habits in the life. Because it is so natural it is rarely recognized for the evil that it is; but its outworkings are tragic.

We are often hindered from giving up our treasures to the Lord out of fear for their safety; this is especially true when those treasures are loved relatives and friends. But we need have no such fears. Our Lord came not to destroy but to save. Everything is safe which we commit to Him, and nothing is really safe which is not so committed.

Our gifts and talents should also be turned over to Him. They should be recognized for what they are, God's loan to us, and should never be considered in any sense our own. We have no more right to claim credit for special abilities than for blue eyes or strong muscles. "For who maketh thee to differ from another? and what bast thou that thou didst not receive?"

The Christian who is alive enough to know himself even slightly will recognize the symptoms of this possession malady, and will grieve to find them in his own heart. If the longing after God is strong enough within him he will want to do something about the matter. Now, what should he do?

First of all he should put away all defense and make no attempt to excuse himself either in his own eyes or before the Lord. Whoever defends himself will have himself for his defense, and he will have no other; but let him come defenseless before the Lord and he will have for his defender no less than God Himself. Let the inquiring Christian trample under foot every slippery trick of his deceitful heart and insist upon frank and open relations with the Lord.

Then he should remember that this is holy business. No careless or casual dealings will suffice. Let him come to God in full determination to be heard. Let him insist that God accept his all, that He take all things out of his heart and Himself reign there in power. It may be he will need to become specific, to name things and people by their names one by one. If he will become drastic enough he can shorten the time of his travail from years to minutes and enter the good land long before his slower brethren who coddle their feelings and insist upon caution in their dealings with God.

Let us never forget that such a truth as this cannot be learned by rote as one would learn the facts of physical science. They must be experienced before we can really know them. We must in our hearts live through Abraham's harsh and bitter experiences if we would know the blessedness which follows them. The ancient curse will not go out painlessly; the tough old miser within us will not lie down and die obedient to our command. He must be torn out of our heart like a plant from the soil; he must be extracted in agony and blood like a tooth from the jaw. He must be expelled from our soul by violence as Christ expelled the money changers from the temple. And we shall need to steel ourselves against his piteous begging, and to recognize it as springing out of self-pity, one of the most reprehensible sins of the human heart.

If we would indeed know God in growing intimacy we must go this way of renunciation. And if we are set upon the pursuit of God He will sooner or later bring us to this test. Abraham's testing was, at the time, not known to him as such, yet if he had taken some course other than the one he did, the whole history of the Old Testament would have been different. God would have found His man, no doubt, but the loss to Abraham would have been tragic beyond the telling. So we will be brought one by one to the testing place, and we may never know when we are there. At that testing place there will be no dozen possible choices for us; just one and an alternative, but our whole future will be conditioned by the choice we make.

Father, I want to know Thee, but my coward heart fears to give up its toys. I cannot part with them without inward bleeding, and I do not try to hide from Thee the terror of the parting. I come trembling, but 1 do come. Please root from my heart all those things which 1 have cherished so long and which have become a very part of my living self, so that Thou mayest enter and dwell there without a rival. Then shalt Thou make the place of Thy feet glorious. Then shall my heart have no need of the sun to shine in it, for Thyself wilt be the light of it, and there shall be no night there. In Jesus' Name, Amen.

I say “Yes!”

I've wanted to post again for months now, but somehow the words have never come together. I'm not sure that I will have much more success tonight but I am going to try. Sometimes I just need to start writing in order for my thoughts to make any sense. Yet perhaps they don't need to make sense. I am recognizing some of the paradoxes of the Christian life these days… Some things don't make sense in the mind but bring life to the soul.

God is doing a refining it me. Sometimes when I'm lying in bed at night or sitting alone in a quiet house I wonder what the end product will look like, but most of the time I am too busy to ponder this at great length. I think I let living get in the way of Life. I want to change that. I want Life to come first.

God is asking something of me. He is asking me to take surrender to a new level. The problem is, I'm still not sure what He means by that. I have done a wonderful job of coming up with options, all of which would require a good deal of giving up all and walking by faith… yet somehow He remains quiet, simply asking if I'm willing to do it.

"What is 'it' Lord?" I plead, over and over, "I want to do it! Tell me what 'it' is!"

It could mean staying home the next couple years and simply working and praying, giving away all the money I own. I might feel that my life was useless. Would I do it?

It could mean giving up all my plans for July, all my trips to see my closest friends and them coming to see me, and going instead to some third world country to hold starving children and tell them of Jesus. Would I do it?

It could mean more than a summer missions trip. It could mean actually moving to Haiti or Uganda, choosing to live there the rest of my life and never seeing my family and friends again. It could mean living in poverty and simply doing all I could to bring life and heath and love to the hopeless and abandoned.

It could mean living here, working at CHESS, going to college, teaching elementary classes, leading a bible study, reaching out to girls with hurts in their lives, fellowshipping with friends, singing in choir, and loving my family. Could it really? Could that be "all" God asks of me? It could, and part of me thinks that would be even hard than the previous options. It would be so simple to slip back into living as nominal Christian, where God has most of me, but not quite all. It would be so easy to serve Him during the day yet claim my evenings and weekends as my own. It would be harder to stay here. But is that what He is asking of me?

It could mean giving up phone time and chat time and email time and visit time with my dear, Christ-like, edifying friends so that I may more closely focus on the call of God on my life. Ouch. Would I do it?

It could mean lots of things. I would like to think I would do any of them. I would like to think that I would respond "Yes, Lord!" no matter what He asked and follow obediently, and even excitedly, no mater how painful or drastic His request. I would like to think I would. But would I really?

I am currently being saturated with stories of great women of faith like Amy Carmichael, Gladys Alward, Jackie Pullenger, and many others who gave (or are giving) their lives daily for the cause of Christ. These are woman who chose to take up their crosses and follow their Master. I have heard of young men who sold themselves as slaves to share Jesus with slaves, knowing they would never return and declared "May the Lamb that was slain receive the reward of His suffering!"

"It is the life that has no time for trifling that counts" – Amy Carmichael

"I lack nothing. I have everything – everything I want in Christ. But that is not true for the world" – Jackie Pullenger

"Ask not how little, but how much can love give?" – Amy Carmichael

"The gospel always brings life to the receiver and death to the giver. If it killed Him to give life to us, and He invites us to do the same, why should we expect any less?" – Jackie Pullenger

"There is no gain except by loss, no life except by death" – Amy Carmichael

"If I covet any place on earth but the dust at the foot of the cross, then I know nothing of Calvary love" ~ Amy Carmichael

"Tell me in the light of the Cross, isn't it a scandal that you and I live as we do?" – Alan Redpath

It seems to me that the great Deceiver has utterly convinced us that we could never live as these men and women and needn't even try. But I believe we can, and more than that, we must. I read stories about girls younger than me such as Katie Davis, an average American girl who has become the mommy of 13 children in Uganda and I know God has created us for more. We owe Him no less. He bought our very lives with His blood – we are His to do with as He wills. Do we realize that? And do we live in light of this realization?

I choose to stand with Amy Carmichael and Katie Davis and Jackie Pullenger and say that my God can have all of me –all, truly all. He has all of me and can send me to Haiti or Hawaii, lead me through Heaven or Hell, keep me home, I will follow. I say this with confidence, not because I am confident of my own strength, but because He who has begun a good work in me will complete it. I am willing, and He will make me string. I give my life to be a living death and know that it will be the best life I could live. It's one of those paradoxes I mentioned. Isn't it beautiful? May Hell tremble and Heaven rejoice. I don't expect it to be glamorous, I just expect it to be Life. This is how I choose to live.

Heaven help me.

God show me what this means.

But I say yes.

Doomed to be Emotional?

Emotions - those things that girls struggle with. You know, those things that make them cry. Anger, despair, glee, sorrow, contentment, confusion, tiredness (does tiredness count as an emotion? It does in my book,) and, always, lots of tears.

For as long as I can remember, I have been tired. For as long as I can remember, becoming over tired meant an emotional melt down. I can count the number of times in my life that I have had a week where I felt well rested and well. I really do not like being emotional. I have a hard time saying the word without scorn creeping into my voice. It is always humbling to admit to others that my emotions have such a strong hold over me.

The last four days have been some of the most emotional I have ever experienced. (Did I mention how much I despise emotional days? I do.) The worst thing was, I really wasn’t sure why I was emotional. I knew something was terribly wrong, I just wasn’t sure what it was.
I felt that I would never be healthy; that I would never consistently have that feeling of well being that so many people in this world take for granted every day, and never have the energy to accomplish what I felt called to. I felt that I would never find a place where I could serve God without the extreme failure I had experienced multiple times before; I cared strongly about people, but could not seem to serve them as I longed… instead I always ended up alienating them and wondering if it would be better for me to just stay out of their lives all together. Worst of all, I felt that I was loosing my passion and joy. Loosing the driving force behind my optimism and dreams – faith and hope, faith that God would make something out of the tangled mess I was sobbing over seemingly every day, and hope that that time would come before too much longer. I didn’t doubt that He could… just that He actually would.
How did I get there? Strangely, I have no idea why these fierce emotions decided to crop up this last week. There have been plenty of times when explaining such emotions would not be difficult, but now? My life is wonderful. I am excited about the ministries I am a part of, the possibilities for the future, and the amazing friends God has placed in my life. Why did my happy little world of emotional stability have to fall apart right now?
I can put names on the emotions I was feeling. I was hurting for a friend and a brother who are struggling. I was struggling to open myself up to the possibility of beginning again the process of restoration in a relationship. But these are things I have dealt with countless times in the last five years.
I was reminded of a note my friend Lauren wrote about “stored up mourning.” She talked about how she was suddenly overwhelmed by emotions stemming from situations that had taken place quite a length of time before, but over which she had never properly mourned. That makes sense to me… but I have already mourned these very things over and over…. and over and over. Why are they still so fresh and painful? Why is it that any memory seems to bring back waves of emotions so strong that I stagger, and question if I have truly dealt with the issue before. Yet I know I have. I did last time this happened. And the time before that. And, yes, the time before that, too.
Why again? Why now? Am I to staunchly renounce my emotions and tell myself to believe the truth? The truth? What is the truth? Honestly, if one more person tells me that I need to just tell myself the truth I think I will strangle them. Coming from a Prophet, that is really saying something! I hate that I feel that way. But I do. Isn’t there more to cling to that “the truth”? I’m tired of that answer. It hasn’t helped me. I have been disillusioned and hurt… I don’t want any more truth. I just want God. How am I to find Him in this maze of emotion? How I abhor my ridiculous emotions!
Still, God met me tonight. I was lying on a dirt mount, wearing a coat I picked up from the drycleaner only this morning. He reminded me (not for the first time) that emotions are not always accurate reflections of circumstances. Just because I feel does not mean it is. He is still quietly directing and orchestrating my life, even while I grope for another tissue. All I can do is wait with patience. It will all be ok, He told me. It will all be ok.
What that means, I do not know.
Why I am so emotional, I do not know.
Oh! How I wish I did! And how I wish I had a cure for it! Did He make me like this? Or is it a character flaw I am supposed to overcome? How I wish I knew! Yet if I must go through times like this frequently, I am willing to do so. I still don't like it.
But it will all be ok.
Somehow.

This is a rather depressing note. I hesitate to even post it. But for some reason I am anyway. Take it with a grain of salt.
__________________________

______________________________________________

While I’m Waiting
I'm waiting
I'm waiting on You, Lord
And I am hopeful
I'm waiting on You, Lord
Though it is painful
But patiently, I will wait

I will move ahead, bold and confident
Taking every step in obedience
While I'm waiting
I will serve You
While I'm waiting
I will worship
While I'm waiting
I will not faint
I'll be running the race
Even while I wait

I'm waiting
I'm waiting on You, Lord
And I am peaceful
I'm waiting on You, Lord
Though it's not easy
But faithfully, I will wait
Yes, I will wait
I will serve You while I'm waiting
I will worship while I'm waiting
I will serve You while I'm waiting
I will worship while I'm waiting
I will serve you while I'm waiting
I will worship while I'm waiting on You, Lord


Did You Ever Need A Song
Did you ever need a song that's soft and low,
Mood indigo, just because
Did you ever need a sabbath space
To sit and face what no one does.
To take off your skin and start over again
Or to lay on your back and cry
The kind that comes to wash your soul,
Scrub you clean and make you whole
The kind that leaves you heavy sighin'

Did you ever need to take account
Of all you've found, what's true or not.
Did you ever need to bare your soul
To be truly know by a loving God
Oh to take off your skin and start over again
Oh to lay on your back and cry
Oh the kind that leaves you puffy eyed,
Weighted with strange peace in side,
The kind that leaves you heavy sighin'
Oh to take off your skin and start over again
Oh to lay on your back and cry
Oh the kind that comes to wash your soul,
Scrub you clean and leave you whole
The kind that leaves you heavy sighin'
Heavy sighin'