Thursday, August 23, 2007

Dearest God,

Sometimes I utterly fail to trust you, taking control into my own hands. I emote frustrations, pain, and sorrow. At times I can't seem to let go of the reigns, placing them in your hands. I carry burdens that you came to carry. I don't want a heart of stone that feels nothing. I do want a heart that so meaningfully beats in rhythm with you. One that leans in, trusts. One that knows you know best. One that has great confidence in trust in you. One that acts courageously, appropriately, in line with your will.

My hearts falls into disrepair when I fail to stand in your light. That damn shadow of darkness slowly covers me like the sun's movement during dusk and setting. My own heart's rhythm becomes irregular when I move away rather staying in line beating, beating, beating with you. And sorrow fills me when I know I have failed again.

My one comfort is that I know you welcome me home again and the light strikes the heart of my darkness. Grace. I know what it is. I have benefited so many times from this lavish love. Undeserving. I am so undeserving. Yet, a child always gets a way back home. How many times, Lord, how many times will you allow me to come back home? Of course, I know the answer already. Always. Always I can come back home.

But I want, O Lord, to trust you always. To never turn my back from your light. I want only to shine my teeny light beside the brilliant light that is yours. Do you weep when I turn? When others turn? Do you ever weary of such behavior? Do you ever want to say, "No more!"

I am human; I don't expect to be anything else. But that image of you that shines in and through me? Well, I want it to remain unsmudged. I want it to be beautiful for you, my Savior. I want the beauty of you that is within me to shine for light years. You are the light of my life. I love all others around me, but you are the light of my life.

Teach me. Mould me. Make me again. Scrub the ugliness from your image in me. Make me new...for you.

I am your child,
and no other.
I play,
and cry,
and dance,
and sing,
and scream,
and do
so much other.
Make me an instrument
of your grace,
all the time.
Allow me
to be worthy
of all the goodness
you give me.
I am so blessed,
yet I behave poorly
when I leave trust
on the road
of life's experiences.
Lead me
to renewal.
Place in my backpack
a child's trust
in God.

Love, Andrea