I wonder if by Sunday night anything will be different. Will it be easier to breath? Will it be easier to read the Word? Will it be easier to stand up straight, hold my hands up in worship?
Do I actually believe that once one task at hand is completed that the Enemy will relent on his attack and we will breath easier, walk through life lighter?
I would like to believe we could but I don't think we will. I don't think the temptation to think like the world, act like the world, fit in with the world, listen to the world will abate just because things are "completed." Quite honestly I don't think that Sunday evening is completion date.
Today I have been busy. If I was not attempting to beat my body into quiet submission through sweat, I was attempting to quite my mind and heart in the stillness of His throne room. The enemy watched me go apparently because he has not let up since. Physically my ankle has gone to crap in a moment, forcing my normal afternoon routine in a less demanding one. Spiritually, mentally, emotionally things that I have trained myself not to believe, not to think about have become my evening obsession.
Thoughts about my weight and body image have been downed with Nalgene after Nalgene of water.
Mistruths about my worth have been doodled, crossed out and rewritten in my journal. Poured over and reread, cried over and obsessed. Words from one I know loves me misconstrued into attacks in my head, and held unto in my heart like a precious jewel. My precious pain jewel.
Why do I do these things? Why do I hold unto pain as if it is a reward? When I am attacked by the enemy I grab unto whatever is hurting me and I cling to it, I literally obsess over it until most often I am physically sick. This is disgusting, this is sin!
I am a daughter, a object of pride, and a beloved bride of the Most High King of Heaven. My worth is uncountable in the eyes of the King. And so is yours! When Jesus sees me He longs for the day when He can come get me and hold me in His arms. He is proud of every moment I give Him glory. His heart leaps when I run to Him. He longs to offer ointment for my wounds and peace for my worried mind.
My King sees me, He hears me, He is faithful, He is love. I am HIS! and I AM ENOUGH!
Showing posts with label Jesus. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jesus. Show all posts
19 April 2010
16 November 2009
How Dare He
I am an emotional person. I know it. Call me sensitive, passionate, easily moved, whatever I know it. I cry a lot. When I'm happy it's always "the best day of my life," I get excited and giddy easily. Silly stuff like pictures, gifts, songs and commercials make me tear up.
If there is one thing that enrages me, it's when someone dares to lay a hand on one of my girls.
Sunday afternoon my youngest sister was at the Vikings game. She'd been planning her first game with her boyfriend and his family for weeks. Something happened towards the end of the game when everyone had had one to many beers. Someone in her party accidently knocked a beer onto the purse of a woman in front of them. The woman threw a beer back at my sister and the rest of her party that had not gotten up to go to the bathroom.
I know my sister (and all our family for that matter) and she will admit she ran off at the mouth. We all do, it's one of the unfortunate habits we gained for our mother and her side of the family. Both my birth father and my step dad are quiet passive aggressive types. Us girls let our mouths go and try to pick up the refuge afterwards. Abbi is the typical baby of the family and has always been a small kid but what she lacks in size she has always made up for in spunk and sass. She admits that it quickly became a verbal spar with plenty of expletives that was able to burn itself out within a few moments. Also being a life long tender heart (another trait all three of us girls gained from out Mom) she tapped on the womans shoulder to apologize. The man the woman was with turned around and told her to stop patronizing the woman, and then proceeded to push my sister in front of both the woman he was with and two young teenage girls that we part of his party. (This infuriated the man Abbi was sitting with and the man who had pushed her was eventually asked to leave by police).
She was telling me the story this evening and I tried not to let my own expletives sneak out while I held Izaboo on my lap. But I know what I would've done had I been next to my sister at the game. I would've dropped an f-bomb or two before breaking my knuckles in a punch I think I know how to lay because I've seen a lot of movies but have probably long since forgotten how to actually deliver from the Karate days. I would've gotten kicked out, ruined the guys face or whatever part of his body I could reach first and completely ruined any witness to the glory of Christ that I may have carried into the place with me. My sister still would've been pushed, I still would've watched her be hurt, I would not have proven anything, other than I am given to anger.
It angers me that a man with his own teenage daughters could have the audacity to push a woman, a young and little woman like Abbi. (Regardless of the fact that she had previously been a tipsy little brat...which she will admit to). What witness did you just display for your own little girls, that given enough alcohol if they smart off you'd push them in public?
But my problem is not with this man. My problem is with myself. I want to work in full time ministry and missions in the near future. And I will admit that I would've at least attempted to smash this guy in the face. I will admit that I can't even in my mind think of anything beautiful or redeeming about him. I don't want to pray for him, and in my mind I don't believe the Jesus loves him the way he loves Abbi, the way he loves me.
But I know that's not true. I know that me being short tempered with my kids is just as bad as this man pushing my little sister. I know that swearing under my breath when I heard the story is as bad as the words he called her. I know better than that! I know that Jesus loves this man just as much as he loves me. And sometimes I really don't think that's fair. I don't think it's fair that Jesus loves my Dad like he loves me, I don't think it's fair that God loves my best friends ex husband the way he loves her. I don't think it's fair that Jesus cares for my best friends relative the way he cares for her.
Sometimes I don't only think its' not fair. It makes me mad! It makes me mad that this life is not fair. That I cry and sweat and bleed and he walks away free. That my sister had those thoughts in the back of her mind the last 24 hours. And he holds us all in the palm of his hands. He loves us all the same. He has every hair on every hair counted.
He is a good God. And his glory and the truth of who He is just exemplifies how broken I am but makes me so, so glad that He does chose me.
Daily.
Even when I've screwed up, when I'm mad, when I'm jealous, when I just don't get it.
If there is one thing that enrages me, it's when someone dares to lay a hand on one of my girls.
Sunday afternoon my youngest sister was at the Vikings game. She'd been planning her first game with her boyfriend and his family for weeks. Something happened towards the end of the game when everyone had had one to many beers. Someone in her party accidently knocked a beer onto the purse of a woman in front of them. The woman threw a beer back at my sister and the rest of her party that had not gotten up to go to the bathroom.
I know my sister (and all our family for that matter) and she will admit she ran off at the mouth. We all do, it's one of the unfortunate habits we gained for our mother and her side of the family. Both my birth father and my step dad are quiet passive aggressive types. Us girls let our mouths go and try to pick up the refuge afterwards. Abbi is the typical baby of the family and has always been a small kid but what she lacks in size she has always made up for in spunk and sass. She admits that it quickly became a verbal spar with plenty of expletives that was able to burn itself out within a few moments. Also being a life long tender heart (another trait all three of us girls gained from out Mom) she tapped on the womans shoulder to apologize. The man the woman was with turned around and told her to stop patronizing the woman, and then proceeded to push my sister in front of both the woman he was with and two young teenage girls that we part of his party. (This infuriated the man Abbi was sitting with and the man who had pushed her was eventually asked to leave by police).
She was telling me the story this evening and I tried not to let my own expletives sneak out while I held Izaboo on my lap. But I know what I would've done had I been next to my sister at the game. I would've dropped an f-bomb or two before breaking my knuckles in a punch I think I know how to lay because I've seen a lot of movies but have probably long since forgotten how to actually deliver from the Karate days. I would've gotten kicked out, ruined the guys face or whatever part of his body I could reach first and completely ruined any witness to the glory of Christ that I may have carried into the place with me. My sister still would've been pushed, I still would've watched her be hurt, I would not have proven anything, other than I am given to anger.
It angers me that a man with his own teenage daughters could have the audacity to push a woman, a young and little woman like Abbi. (Regardless of the fact that she had previously been a tipsy little brat...which she will admit to). What witness did you just display for your own little girls, that given enough alcohol if they smart off you'd push them in public?
But my problem is not with this man. My problem is with myself. I want to work in full time ministry and missions in the near future. And I will admit that I would've at least attempted to smash this guy in the face. I will admit that I can't even in my mind think of anything beautiful or redeeming about him. I don't want to pray for him, and in my mind I don't believe the Jesus loves him the way he loves Abbi, the way he loves me.
But I know that's not true. I know that me being short tempered with my kids is just as bad as this man pushing my little sister. I know that swearing under my breath when I heard the story is as bad as the words he called her. I know better than that! I know that Jesus loves this man just as much as he loves me. And sometimes I really don't think that's fair. I don't think it's fair that Jesus loves my Dad like he loves me, I don't think it's fair that God loves my best friends ex husband the way he loves her. I don't think it's fair that Jesus cares for my best friends relative the way he cares for her.
Sometimes I don't only think its' not fair. It makes me mad! It makes me mad that this life is not fair. That I cry and sweat and bleed and he walks away free. That my sister had those thoughts in the back of her mind the last 24 hours. And he holds us all in the palm of his hands. He loves us all the same. He has every hair on every hair counted.
He is a good God. And his glory and the truth of who He is just exemplifies how broken I am but makes me so, so glad that He does chose me.
Daily.
Even when I've screwed up, when I'm mad, when I'm jealous, when I just don't get it.
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