Two nights ago, after having found out that I had insurance during the wreck I’ve been posting a lot about lately, I was feeling good. Really good. Great mood, just about to go to bed, when I realized I hadn’t finished the REAP for the day. I got up and spent some time in the Word and prayer journaling. At the end of a few pages, I realized that in my gratitude and excitement I noticed something else: a lack of the intensity in caring for holiness. Oh crap, am I turning into one of those Holy fanatics? One of those people who would sacrifice even some seemingly innocent “nonsense,” if it meant more of God being glorified?
I hope so. (But I just said, “crap,” so probably not.)
I noticed it again last night. Out somewhere with some friends, a LOT of friends, actually, getting lots of attention, I was reminded of how much I like attention….and how easily it can eclipse for me the most important thing, my King. I want to rejoice in fun times and people and good conversation, but I want to do those things BECAUSE they show the goodness of God, the giver, and not for the gifts themselves.
So I share with you the prayer I wrote down Tuesday night,
“…Please Lord, I am scared to ask, but I do ask that you allow me to continue in the fellowship of your sufferings that I may not forget you, that I may not chose any option beside you. I admit- I want to run, I am afraid of the possibilities. But you have not given me a spirit of fear, and perfect love casts out all fear. So bring to me, Lord, not the circumstance that are the most fun, but those which would most sanctify me and cause me to shine forth your love.
And the next morning, after waking up with a sure sign of answered prayer, a terribly aching heart (formerly waning, now back):
“Father I ask that I could continue in the fellowship of your suffering, but that I would not be anxious about anything. But that I would give you everything through prayer and supplication- that I would SUBMIT my prayers to you. I submit…”
Ha! I had to “re-submit” something at least FOUR TIMES yesterday. But I think it’s okay. I think everytime I pick it up, I can put it back down, and He’s still going to love me and take it from me. I’m not discouraged that I keep picking it up, as thought I’m getting more sinful. I find it more likely that I’m just noticing or caring that I pick it back up more.
Today, I think it’s not so much that I have to submit my broken heart, but that I have the gift of a broken heart to give. Jesus was sent, after all, to bind up the broken hearted. I welcome the binding embrace of the one meant to make me whole.