All these words jumble through me like alphabet soup. A conglomeration of many could-be-thoughts but the letters are hopelessly congealed to one another without formation.
I sit to write them out. To reveal to myself more than anyone else what I need to understand. That missing prize of truth that will help me get past this issue. That confusion. The frustration I’ll meet later or the hurt I experienced in that place days, months, years ago.
Because I know it’s there. The wisdom that will carry me through the emotions too ripe to make sense. The illumination waiting in the wings once syllables make sense.
So I sip and swallow and wait for the transformation from lost to found.
Sometimes it comes soon. Sometimes it takes so long I forget what I’ve been waiting for.
Then it sneaks
into crevices I’d forgotten I’d left wide open. Unfinished.
Sores that demand to be healed.
I try to repeat what I know to be true.
forth . . .
to quell the thoughts I know
to be unproductive,
I want to replace the negative with the positive.
Resentment with love and patience.
Confusion with security in all circumstances.
Pride with selflessness.
Judgement with compassion and forgiveness.
I want to replace me with Him.
And I’m seeing more and more how direly necessary that transformation is in my life. I don’t like when I’m faced with the sin in my heart. It’s ugly, weak, coarse. And I have it in spades.
Oh yes I do. Perfect, I am NOT.
Never have been. Never can be this side of streets of gold.
So I pace and pant and wait for the destination from grave to glory.
The patience pays off. For when I do name them (emotions) and when I do surrender it (control) and when I do count them (His blessings) and when I do see it (the actual truth) and when I do stop…
I see differently.
I really do come to know
Yet I’ll forget again that next time. If I don’t stop and breathe. Even if I try to recite and speak it and ingrain it with words – I’ll need more. Because my memory is terrible. It’s not how I learn. I have to see, feel, touch…over and again. I have to come back to the fountain. For it’s there my cup overflows. It’s in His letters, not my own, where I’ll find peace. Where I’ll find accuracy. Where I’ll find the victory in every battle.
“For the word of God is living and active and sharper than any two-edged sword, and piercing as far as the division of soul and spirit, of both joints and marrow, and able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart.” (Hebrews 4:12, NASB)
So I stand and I strive, and wait for the prize. Though I constantly believe myself unworthy.