Gravity and Grace… When Our Need is Great

Gravity. I feel it.

I felt it as I sat there on my lunch break at work in the “cafeteria” at the college where I work and poured over the book I had bought just days before. Just Show Up written by two women who formed a magnificent friendship during one of the women’s cancer diagnosis. Each word hit my heart and brought me hope. This story is all too familiar, because it has become mine. Ours. Ciera’s and mine. Tears that I wanted to come instead stayed in the pockets of my eye sockets. I could feel them well up as I put the book down and observed my surroundings.

Several televisions blasted on my right, on my left, in front of me. I could only hear noise. That’s it. The noise and chatter of the football news in front of me, the news about the Oregon shooting on my right, and Donald Trump angrily yelled out his opinions on my left. And people around me were captivated to each screen, depending on which story caught their attention.

I looked down at my book and my breath caught. Quickly I looked away and gazed up at each screen. Unseen, I studied each person whose face was captivated by a screen and my heart cracked. The weight of the world is so heavy on me. My heart and heaviness. The weight of everything. The weight of deaths for Christ and the weight of Oregon’s hurt. Hurt throbbing in the pit of my stomach. Real, tangible hurt. The souls that passed onto the next life to dance on golden streets and show His glory to those, here in America, around the world who would listen, rested upon me… The weight, hope, and gravity of life heavy on me…

Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Matthew 11:28. 

The verse resounds in my mind and echoes hope. I cling to it like water in a desert. His grace, His hope around me feels like water.  I need it. So desperately. Grasping and gasping simultaneously I pray. My prayers have become so simple recently, because I flail and fail at words.

 I need You. Jesus. Yeshua. Help. 

Gravity. Grace. I hate that in this world, we grow numb to it. You know? We grow numb to relationships and numb to what it means to do life together. We grow numb to shootings so much so that the shock lessens a little each time. We grow numb to words. We throw around our words and condolences. So many people in our lives become sick or encounter tragedy and we throw platitudes their way. God won’t give you more than you can handle. We lie to ourselves with these platitudes and lie to each other to make it better. We throw sorrows around without true meaning behind them. Our hearts, hardened by loss, tragedy, and shock refuse to break more. We harden our own hearts. Like Pharaoh. A nation of pharaoh’s walking around ignoring each other. Lord, help us! Lord, Mercy!

Lord, break our hearts! Lord, see our wretchedness! Our Wickedness! Lord, See! Lord, hear! Lord, act! Let our hearts be pliable in Your hands. Let my heart be pliable. Let my heart be soft. Break me. Keep me Yours. Keep me. 

Today I am whipped, damaged, cracked. I feel so heavy. Gravity.

Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.
Matthew 11: 29.

Oh Lord, give me rest. Give our souls rest. Give us peace in this troubled world. We need Your grace to get through this. Through Your grace lead us to repentance. We recognize that You being gentle and humble in heart, You giving us rest is Your grace abundant. Give our troubled, broken, hardened hearts peace. Give us Your rest… Give us Your grace. We need you more than we even know. Even those who don’t know you don’t know their need for you. Lord, help us. Jesus. 

For My yoke is easy and my burden is light. Matthew 11:30

Lord, make us light. Make me light. Fill me with your joy… that abundant joy that You have talked about and told us about and… make our hearts light and take our load. Let our hearts fill with grace and overflow to those around us. Soften our hearts and allow us to break… and let that break be an “exhale” of relief in the arms of our Savior, Yeshua. Be balm to our wounds, Lord. Be a light in this darkness. This dark world. Give us hope.  Ignite our hearts with Your flame and help us burn bright as lights. Help us. Help us. Help me. 

I need You. 

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For those who don’t know, please do pray for Ciera. She has been fighting for her life on life support due to an adenovirus and has started a drug that will help her. I believe Ciera will be healed. I cannot wait to see her when I go visit her. In Jesus, Yeshua, Hashem’s name… please pray for her complete healing. By His stripes, my friends. By His stripes. 

Meaningless Sorries….

I get home, the sun has long set. Watson, laying in the crate pretending he doesn’t see me. But I see it. His hope. His tail lifts itself to get ready, a wag waiting to greet me.

I’m so sorry, baby Watson! I’m so sorry!

He doesn’t comprehend my apologies, he just knows I love him. I take him out the crate and cradle him, tears on my face. The longest day ever. My tired eyes closing, wishing for sleep already.

I’m sorry, baby! I’m so sorry! 

He wiggles out of my dramatic grip and pounces toward his bone, holding it in his mouth he waits for me to leash him before we go on our stroll.

As I head out the door with Watson by my side, I turn around to shut the door and cringe. I look around at my disordered house, the dishes piling in the sink, clean ones in the washer. Me, too tired. I’m too tired.

I’m sorry. I whisper to my roommate sleeping upstairs above me. One of the millions of apologies i’ve given to her this week.

I know I let it get out of hand, but I feel like i’m always on the go. When I’m not working, I’m at home in the kitchen cooking so I have something to eat and by the time I’ve got food on the table for me, I’m too tired. It’s 9:00pm. My bedtime. I put the dishes by the sink, leave them on the table. Taking off clothes as I head upstairs with Watson not bothering to be modest, I try to swing clothes around like they’re his toys. I’ve found if I make it a game for him, I don’t feel as guilty about my long day. My longer night.

The nights are long. I get in bed at 9:00 exhausted, but sleepless. I stare at the ceiling, stare at Watson and when I finally drift to sleep, he stands up and starts to play.

The nights are so long.

I try to sleep with him playing next to me and surrender. So we play until I can no longer play. As I finally drift back to sleep, he jumps off the bed and onto the floor. I wake up, automatically, getting up to see if he’s okay and bring him back to bed. You must stay, little Watson! You must stay! I give him a peck on his head, right between his eyes. They slowly shut as he drifts to sleep. I climb back in bed with him and will myself to sleep.

The nights are so long.

My alarm goes off at 4:00 am.

I get up, make coffee, do lesson plans, work on work that needs to be done, read the scriptures, pray the best I can and time runs out. My prayers end, I’m sorry, Lord. 

The days are so short.

I feel tired. Still. I flail. My constant apologies ring out wherever I go. A life fully of messy apologies flung to every corner and crevice. Cluttered. Like my house, my heart, my sorries.

Sara, you’re late. 

I’m so sorry.

Sara, you cut that guy off in traffic. 

I’m so sorry.

Sara, you forgot to meet me when we said we would meet. 

I’m so sorry.

Sara, Why haven’t you text me back? 

I’m so, so sorry.

My endless sorries ring out to the edges of the earth and they lose their meaning as I feel demands on every side. They lose their meaning when I stop feeling sorry for being late. I stop feeling sorry for not texting a person back, not attending yet another event, for not doing things that I know I should do. I say yes to the people I cherish most and no to the things that I can’t. I try my best, arriving and still saying Sorry, kicking myself because that person is too precious to hear my sorries. I stop feeling sorry and start either silently doing what I know I need to do or speaking up and saying no to the things I know I can’t do.

NO. No, I will not make that meeting on time. No. I cannot do this for you. No, Can we try another day? No, I cannot go out today. No, I will not work out with you, Why? because I only have enough energy to workout with me today. I only have enough energy to workout with me without communicating whilst i’m exercising. My energy is limited.

My resounding yes’s and my resounding no’s mean far more than my sorries ever will.

So I go back to my house. I enter the door. I look at the dishes determined. I will do the dishes. I will clean the kitchen and I will not be sorry.

(Thank google for the pic)

I will walk Watson without apologizing to him. He has to know that I cannot be a stay at home dog mom- as awesome as that would be.

Instead of saying “Sorry”, I want to change- and I want change to be lasting, not just a few weeks. I want my change to last a lifetime to make up for the lifetime of sorries that i’ve spent.

If Confidence was a…

If Confidence was a…

If Confidence was an object, I think it would be water.
Or sand.

I find when I attempt to grab hold of Confidence, it slips right through my fingers.
It’s mysterious and difficult for me to grasp.
I fail. I flail. Flustered.

I look around with wild eyes at everyone else walking to and fro around me with this mysterious Confidence held tightly in their hands.
Tight in their hands like a solid object. A smartphone. A Candy bar. A lover’s hand.

But it escapes me. I long for it, grasp for it, pretend for it, run for it.
The same type of running that happens on a treadmill. Running and running and running but never getting anywhere.

And I stand there, feeling naked in front of all my peers who grasp hold of this solid object called Confidence.

If Confidence was an object it would be clothes. Something that people wear.
I look around with wide, frightened eyes and see people wear it all around me.
Them, fully clothed.
Me, exposed.
Ashamed. Alienated. Unaware of when this happened.
Some wear it like a shirt, others like a turban, or a cloak, a Sari, a Hijab. They drape it around themselves and adorn themselves with its beauty. They wear it like a tiara on their head, proudly prancing around.Their confidence drips from them like golden honey. Beauty in cultures and in people. I’m blown away.

I’m blown away. I’m blown away and totally unguarded. I’m startled. Bewildered. I’m blown away like wind.

When I was growing up, Confidences was not something that occurred to me. I didn’t know you had to acquire or wear it. I didn’t put it on and strut it around, I didn’t hold it in my hand like a lover’s hand or smart phone. I was plain. I am plain. I was not special and did not believe I could do anything worthy. I assumed everyone thought like me. Confidence never entered my mind until I was thrust into the world. The great big world of Self-Possession, Convictions, Assertiveness, Courage, and Poise.

Confidence. The world of selling yourself like a whore hoping someone believes you can do as much as you tell them you can. The world of turning tricks in interviews for people you don’t know in settings you’ve never been in, talking in politely masked words about your own greatness. A world of feigned piety.

The world of thin bodies and sharp minds and strong women and beauty.

The world where assertiveness and aggressiveness are positive things and indecisiveness is akin to ignorance.

The world where people partner up and trade friendships for romance.

The world where people quit playing sports and start going to the gym.

The world where we don’t write for fun, read for fun, run for fun. We do. We do. We… Serious.

I felt lost. I felt lost. I… feel lost.

I feel lost until I realize not where my Confidence lies but in Whom my true Confidence lies.

My True Confidence is in a Person. This person is Creative and Powerful. He who doesn’t have to mask His words with feigned intelligence, He IS intelligence. He’s not a Person who has to do good to make people like Him. He IS Good and still at times hardly anyone likes Him. He knows what it’s like to be an outcast, forgotten, trodden on, betrayed. He knows what it’s like to be made humble and serve others. He knows what it’s like to have two desires in your heart at one time and struggling between them so much that it makes you sweat. Ambivalence. He understands my tears and knows me intimately. BUT He’s also a warrior, a King, a Lover. He doesn’t accumulate wealth because He IS wealth.

He gives me my helmet, my breastplate, my shield, my sword…
He makes my hands strong and makes me bend a bow of bronze.
He gives me shoes that help me relate to people and a perspective that radiates me with joy.

He makes me Beautiful, because He IS beauty.

He makes me Free. Free from expectations and pleasing people. Free from hurt and anger. Free from bitterness and loneliness. Free.

He is my Confidence.

If Confidence was a…. person.

If Confidences was a person, it would be Jesus.

My rock.

My Forgiver, Redeemer, Strong Tower.

My stronghold

My safety.

My salvation.

My Everything.

(This could be a spoken word poem or a poem read for fun… Maybe one day I’ll make a video of me doing it as a spoken word… )

A Bold Prayer

This. “Lord, Change me so that I want what I need”

Dustin C. George

“Lord, change me so that I want what I need.”

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Soul Rest

i was supposed to write part two of my last post, but who says I have to? That’s the thrill in authoring my own blog. I need not follow rules.

On Sunday night, Frustration made my face fill with heat as i drove away from church at 9:15 that night. I was exhausted. I hadn’t gone to the food store, I had work the next day, I had so much to do to get prepared for the weekend that seemed all too soon (Yes, 5 days doesn’t feel long enough when you’re preparing to lead 8-10 teenage girls in Disciple Now). The thought of going home and getting into bed seemed impossible to me.

So as I pulled up to the food store around 9:45, I leaned my head forward and pleaded Lord, please, allow me to rest as i work this week. Allow me to rest in YOU. Not just sit around and be lazy kind of rest, but resting in You as I live and move and breathe and work, and become a responsible woman. Lord HELP. 

And then Monday came and the snowpocalypse came upon us and my work was cancelled at noon. And the electricity has been flickering, making it hard to do anything but… rest.

I love how God works things out. Because today, Tuesday, Work was closed again because the streets are literally just layers of ice. Impossible for me and Watson to go outside without slipping and sliding. Then there’s a possibility of Snow tonight (Tuesday night). Along with cool temps that could freeze the melting ice…. back to ice.

REST.

I cried out for rest and He gave me rest.

Come to Me, all of you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Matthew 11:28

Weary and burdened describes how I felt this past week, this past weekend, this past sunday night. It describes perfectly. And… I came to Him by becoming frustrated asking for HELP. It took humility to realize “man, i cannot do this. I can’t”.
But this rest hasn’t been me sitting around today. It’s been me preparing my house, my life, my heart for the next week. It’s been me emptying out trash, scrubbing bathrooms, smiling to myself in myself, vacuuming floors… slipping and sliding to the dumpster.

And sweating.

And yet, I feel so rested. So unbelievably rested. Soul Rested.

He knows what you need. Cry out to Him! I certainly hope tomorrow we go back to work. I enjoy doing work. I enjoy going to work, and honestly, I kind of want to clean and rearrange my office…

Deception.

My goal is to write once a week, but I feel a pressure to perform. I feel a pressure to write well. To make it good. To be deep. To use correct grammar. I read blogs almost every day. There are SEVERAL i follow. Many of you would be shocked how often I log into wordpress to read instead of write. I enjoy blogs. But today I am just so tired and I want to meet my writing goals and stop worrying about what other people think, so I think from now on I will just write what’s on my mind. It may be one time a week, or it may be three times a week. (run on sentence, I know. So what). No one has to read this, but I think my writing skills and my imagination and love of language will never improve if I don’t make it improve by… writing. And it’s fun to write for a pretend audience. 

Do you ever feel haunted? Plagued by thoughts? You know, the type of thoughts that keep you up at night and that occur to you when you’re in your car, driving.. or that you find suddenly looking out the window at work contemplating? Those thoughts? I’ve had them a lot the past couple of weeks, but more recently. There are two different topics that haunt me right now: Comfort and Deception.

They aren’t that different from each other, but let me explain each separately.

People who are deceived don’t know they’re deceived. Ever notice that? It’s something i’ve thought about the past few days. Many people throughout the Bible, starting with Eve, have been deceived, believed what they were told and then sinned. Most people think, yeah, I know Eve sinned, so what?  It wasn’t that Eve just SINNED, but it’s the fact that she separated herself from God, our creator. Our Father. Our Liberator. Our Friend… She separated herself from Him. Eternally. And instead of accepting Eternal Life and living in His freedom by following Him in obedience, she chose the delicious short-lived enjoyment of a fruit.

Fruit.

This HAUNTs me. I think about it all the time. I think about the times in my past life when I was seriously deceived and truly believed what was in my head and my heart. I have sincerely believed lies in my lifetime. With conviction.

Does that not scare you? It scares me. It makes me wonder where my heart is. It makes me wonder what else i’m being deceived in. It makes me want to pray, Lord, uncover things that are hidden, reveal things I do not know. 

I don’t have scripture to back this up, because I haven’t researched it yet, but after the Thousand Year Millennial that Jesus comes and reigns… won’t there be people who get deceived?

people may say, Sara, you Know Him. You know Him. He knows You. No one can snatch you out of His hand.

No one thinks they’re going to get deceived. No one believes their convictions and beliefs are deceptions.

I’ve got to dig into His word, y’all.

And for now, i’m going to sleep and tomorrow or whenever, I will write about Comfort… and… continue to be haunted by that too.

A Choice.

I thought I would share what I wrote in my journal last night. So I can remember it in more place than one.

Life is a thousand sorrows.

I see them in my impatience with the dog, the hurried snap of displeasure. I see them at the stop sign when I just want the person ahead to be brave and go. I see it in the way I gloss over people who ask “how are you?” because internally they long to be asked. They long to be really seen. I see it in my anger toward coworkers and frustrations toward family. Sorrows roll with me out of my thankless bed into my thankless day as I awake from restless, dissatisfied slumber.

A thousand sorrows trail behind my selfishness, laziness, cruel words, careless attitudes, impatience, forgetfulness, worry… sorrows upon sorrows. Day upon day. Moment upon moment.

Paradoxically, look closely enough to see that life is also… a thousand gifts.

Thankfulness that rises to the sky with a bright sun every morning. I see these gifts in the peanut butter I spread on morning toast and coffee I drink with a faint smile. I see them in the stranger’s eyes that light up with kind words given. I see them in  moments I stop to pet my puppy. When I choose love instead of impatience. When I trade frustrations for forgiveness, passiveness for hard work, hurried moments for tranquil time… I see blessings fall down with each sunset and rise with the lift of heavy weights. Gifts pour with sweat from exercise, because… I CAN. I see them in the car as tears flow to His Glory! I see them in the hands of small children who ask to pray, in innocent eyes that answer gnawing questions. Gifts shower me with shock as I read word upon word in exodus and weep for joy at the beauty of Israelite people being His, and Him being their God, worshiping day after day.

Every day. Every moment. A thousand gifts. Blessings. Smile. Love.

A choice.

Wrestle for Joy

After days of pondering joy, grasping for joy, giving thanks, loving the Lord… my eyes popped open this morning with a wild, frenzied discontentment of life.

I closed my eyes again and grasped. I gaped with heart wide open and eyes closed tight for joy. I wrestled. Like Jacob, I refused to let go until I saw His gifts, His grace.

My eyes opened with wrestling and I thanked Him for trees. And the pup’s solid deep breaths beside me. My heart bowed low and I thanked Him for the sun shining through my window and the opportunity to get up. The opportunity at life.

I smiled. Joy. Joy unwrapped as gifts of grace all around me.

I continued thanking Him as I got out of bed, put my feet on the ground, put a coat on, took Watson out. Walking as if we’re best friends, hand in hand, we lingered around green pushes with red berries and looked up into grey skies with golden streaks. We lived. Breathed. Truly grasped each gift as each sense felt it. The cool air in my lungs and the rude awakening I experienced as my exhaled dragon smoke-like breath into the crisp, cold air around me.

A smile. Once more. Graces. Gifts. Named and noticed. Given and received. Graces received, thanks given, Joy blooming like flowers in a dead field of grass. Like I see before me on this hard ground. That is what joy feels like today.

It feels difficult. Strained. It takes discipline and practice. In the hard moments when I don’t know how life for those around me can ever feel peace, when I feel so hopeless for them, when i wonder when God will swoop down and capture hearts. When I call upon the Hound of Heaven with heavy heart and empty hands.

The wild, strangled feeling of discontentment returns every now and again.

I should be doing more. 

My life should be filled hard, difficult, straining work for His glory…It should be poured out for His gospel!

Why do I feel so alone? Why do I feel so useless? I like feeling used and useful. 

I wrestle.

God gives God, says Ann Voskamp in her book i’ve been reading and pondering, That is the gift God always ultimately gives. Because nothing is greater and we have no greater need, God gives God. 

And I hold onto that truth. It echoes and thunders within me, because He is all I need. He knows my needs. He sees, He knows, He provides. My sweet, sweet Savior.

My life is filled with hard, difficult, straining work of reaching for joy. What a gift. A gift of reaching, stretching, and fighting to grasp the gifts He’s given. Seeing every day sensations and experiences as His graces.

Heavy heart for a tortured soul? His grace. 

The pain I feel at being apart from family and at times seeing nephews grow through pictures? His grace. 

Being separated from a friend for His glory? His grace. 

The difficult moments when loneliness seems to sear my soul? His sweet grace. 

Graces are easy to find and so hard to receive. Our hands must be open to the hard graces of His giving and His taking away. Our hearts must be open to His revealing and His showing us when we’re wrong. The pain of being wrong and ashamed is His grace of not leaving us how we are.

 “…for the LORD disciplines the one He loves, just as a father, the son he delights in” Prov 3:12

Open your hearts, my friends. Repent, find His grace and give your thanks. Receive His joy.

The most difficult, rewarding thing you will ever do.

The Lord is good and His mercy endures forever.

I’ve been learning a lot about joy through Ann Voskamp and the Word of God. If you would like to read her book “One Thousand Gifts”, hit me up, and I’ll show/lend/give you a copy.  

He is Faithful…

After several attempts, several weeks, several entries, at writing this, i’m sorry if this doesn’t do the situation justice:

Remember when I talked about Ciera in my earlier posts? Remember how we prayed and supported? My training for half marathons? Her training for a bone marrow transplant, her success, her remission, her shoulder replacement (maybe I didn’t write about that, I can’t remember). A fighter, a woman of God, a person who smiles and can light up the room. She is a gift to all of us who know her- whether she thinks that or not!

“Those who look to Him are radiant with joy: their faces will never be ashamed.” Psalm 34:5

In mid September, Ciera received devastating, soul crushing, breath-takingly painful news for the third time in her life.
       “You have cancer.”

I remember receiving the text message “She relapsed!” This was soul crushing news that I couldn’t accept. She relapsed? She has cancer again? Why? I don’t understand! It was so hard for her family. You and I have even no idea. We don’t even know an inkling. We can never imagine. But, Lord, let’s cry out on behalf of their entire family- Mike, Sherri, Austin. and Ciera. Because when one person has cancer, their entire family has it.

“The LORD is near to all who call on him, to all who call on him in truth.” Psalm 145:18

She started treatment right away. Round three. And we have prayed and prayed. Nonstop praying.

I remember texting her and asking how she was feeling. Pain. Dizziness. Chemo. Platelets. Blood. Again. This past weekend I went to go visit her. She’s such a good friend! She educated me about things in her life without knowing it, by just allowing us to come visit. Her willingness to have visitors is her selfless way of sharing herself with us… her life with us… and that sharing opened my eyes. From my observations, their days are difficult and long. At times even strenuous. A simple check up on counts and chemo can turn into a 6-11 hour visit at the hospital depending on what other medical issues arise (blood pressure, platelets…etc). Chemo is no joke and it has made her dizzy to where she does not walk around the hospital but instead uses her wheelchair, since she may faint! At times she is constantly nauseated with no relief.  Your prayers are needed. Please do pray.

“For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them.” Matthew 18:20

Only Fifteen days after starting treatment her doctors decided to do a bone marrow aspirate just to check to see how things were progressing. They weren’t really expecting anything much since her bone marrow had been full of leukemia just 15 days prior, but our God is faithful. He provides.

She’s responding to treatment and things are going well! She’s responding to treatment so well that her MRD (Minimal Residual Disease) is less than 1%.  They’re gearing up for some more chemo and then eventually a Bone Marrow Transplant (number 2). There is no timeline at the moment, but her family is trusting Him with each step that comes along. This time, she’ll receive her mom or dad’s cells. Another fight! Please shower them with prayers during this time.

“The LORD’S lovingkindnesses indeed never cease, For His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; Great is Your faithfulness.” Lamentations 3:22-23

We are praying that this fight be the last fight and that Ciera beats this beast called “cancer” once and for all!

Mrs Sherri said it best when she quoted Jesus in his final moments before he beat sin once and for all and purchased our forgiveness from the cross:  “TETELESTAI” It is Finished”…whole-heartedly believing she will beat this once and for all!”

YES! His mercies never cease, He’s near to those who call on Him, His faithfulness is great, He’s present when we pray… His promises endure throughout all generations. Praise Him, everyone! The Lord is stronger.

Psalm 18:1-2; 30-36

^” I love You, Lord, my strength.
The Lord is my rock,
my fortress, and my deliverer,
my God, my mountain where I seek refuge,
my shield and the horn of my salvation,
my stronghold.

God—His way is perfect;
the word of the Lord is pure.
He is a shield to all who take refuge in Him.
For who is God besides Yahweh?
And who is a rock? Only our God.
God—He clothes me with strength
and makes my way perfect.
He makes my feet like the feet of a deer
and sets me securely on the heights.
He trains my hands for war;
my arms can bend a bow of bronze.

You have given me the shield of Your salvation;
Your right hand upholds me,
and Your humility exalts me.
You widen a place beneath me for my steps,
and my ankles do not give way.“

The Effects of the Sun

It’s promptly 7:15 am.

I should be getting ready for work, but instead I’m sitting here watching the sunrise. Still.

Though the sun has risen, I still feel a dark shadow hovering over this new place I now call “home”.

My new home is surrounded by trees. It’s like a mini rainforest. Maybe that’s why they labeled the apartments “Raintree”. I don’t know, but it would make sense, wouldn’t it?

Several times a week I try to wake up well before I’m supposed to so I can watch “the show”. When I oversleep I feel disappointed that i’ve missed it. The sunrise that only happens once a day. The beauty and glory of it and the feeling of life going from a clammy, damp coolness to a warmness that fills the heart is indescribable.

In those early mornings the darkness envelops me, leaving me only seeing shadows from my porch. The shadow of Watson prancing to and fro, the feeling of his paws clamoring about, the strange shapes of trees and branches I see moving from the early morning songbirds I can no longer hear.

I just have to trust that these things still exist in the dark. The birds, the trees, my puppy… myself.

And then a splash of light comes creeping across the sky. It often stuns me, you know. It stuns me in a way because before at my old place I could literally see the sun peek shyly over the horizon. At this new place, as I’m surrounded by all the trees, I can only see the effects of the sunlight.

I can only see the sky turn grey and slowly open itself up to blue. I can only see the streaks of sunlight at times through the trees- glimpses of the sun.

I can see the dark-looking black grass turn from black, to grey, to green in slow shifts. In little inklings of time. Almost like the sun slowly opens itself up and pours itself out for all to see- in stages.

It’s beautiful and stunning and heart breaking.

Heart breaking.

Do you ever feel like that with the True Son?

You know what I mean, don’t you? The darkness of your soul and sin encompass and engulfs every part of you. Fear and anxiety overwhelm you. You feel no connection to anyone. Anything. You feel like an outcast, unable to connect because you’re the only one in the dark with your clammy, cold skin and the weight…

The weight of it all.

So you just have to trust.

Trust that He’s there. Trust that your experience of sin and loneliness and temptation isn’t in solitude, but instead a common human experience. Shared by all. Shared by the trees that surround you and the birds in the trees and the creatures in the grass and the butterflies you can’t see.

Then something happens and something breaks forth and the Light shines. The light doesn’t just shine on the grass making it green and the trees making them real and the birds making them sing. The light shines on you. Making your heart beat and your skin warm and you melt.

The Son can shine. We can see the effects of Him through our sin sometimes- through the trees. We have to look past it or place ourselves in a different environment so that we can see the Son shining in all His splendor. With all His glory. With ALL the praise He’s worthy of.

And then fall on our faces and let Him shine in our minds and our hearts and our souls.

Because the best way to meet the Son is by being lifted up to Him on your face.