Metamorphosis Mondays

Join me here every Monday, where I'll share some words that are changing me for the better...

I stumbled across this by accident while online the other day...

When I no more can stir my soul to move,
And life is but the ashes of a fire;
When I can but remember that my heart
Once used to live and love, long and aspire --
Oh, be thou then the first, the one thou art;
Be thou the calling, before all answering love,
And in me wake hope, fear, boundless desire.
          -George Macdonald, "The Diary of an Old Soul"

From the highlight of every Monday...

Your real life IS your spiritual life, and both are going to be awful until you realize they're not two separate things!

And last but certainly not least, will you head over here and read this post by a wonderful woman named Micha?  Or listen to this incredible song by the talented Catherine Prewitt?


That's all for now, friends.  Hope to see you again next week!

Bare

I admit that I'm timid about posting this one.  And that timidity is the reason I've procrastinated about posting for so long.  See, I wrote this last month in my journal and I didn't put it through the refining process of what is acceptable to say or write publically, so what you have here is some very raw heart-material.  And I feel very vulnerable saying all this...
I guess what I'm asking for is grace, dear friend. 

Is this how I'm meant to survive, Lord?  Not standing tall, filled with divine confidence, invincible against all pain?  I thought You were going to make me strong, but instead You have peeled away layers of my heart until, naked, shamed, my pathetic weakness is laid bare.  Is this how it should be?  Am I, fully aware of my own inability, to come all the more trembling to You, pleading with You for completion?  Can You still speak light out of darkness?  Can You build a universe out of empty space?  Can You still breathe humanity into a cold heap of dust?

God, I love so imperfectly I cringe to even use the word.  There is unspeakable evil inside of me, and though I have concealed it with every facade I can fathom, it still lives within me, threatening to overcome everything I love with everything I hate.

And now...now You're speaking.  You tell me these words don't reflect the heart of the redeemed.  You remind me that you paid the ransom to set me free, and you say that now I am using the speech of slaves.  You say that, yes, it is impossible for me to overcome the monster that is myself, but in the same breath You whisper that You are in the business of slaying serpents.  And in a way that I cannot fathom, You hold my naked, weak, terrified self and whisper fierce love.

I have never before now known what You meant when You said Your power is made perfect in weakness and Your grace is enough.

I think I'm starting to understand now.