Being Willing Clay

There are 1,000,001 other things I should be doing right now than writing a blog post.

But I'm sitting on the front porch, and I keep smelling apples, and little bee wings keep buzzing around the hostas like a little symphony, and I am overwhelmed by God's grace.

I've been thinking this week about that JJ Heller song, the one where she sings, "Be gentle with me, Jesus, as You tear me apart." It is kind of a modern-day prayer of the passage in Job that says, "For he wounds, but he binds up; he shatters, but his hands heal."

What a great God, to care so much about us that He doesn't leave us the way we are.

He could easily leave us as marred, chipped, and broken clay pots, but, loving Potter that He is, He instead knows that there is so much more for us, so much better for us, if we let Him shape us into something more beautiful.

If we let Him.

It has been my experience that "letting Him" is often very painful.

But His hands heal.

I would rather be broken by my God and healed by His hands than left as the imperfect vessel far from Him. Each time we are broken and put back together we are a little more whole than we were before, a little more like Him, a little nearer to Him. Praise God! There is nothing sweeter than tasting just a little bit more of God's goodness.

He doesn't need to give us the affirmation that He sees us, but He does. He doesn't need to give us the affirmation that He is with us, but He does. He doesn't need to tell us that He is pleased with us, that He delights in us as His beloved and paid-for children, and that neither death nor life nor angels nor demons nor past nor present nor height nor depth nor anything else in all creation can separate us from His love...but He does.

He tells us all these things while tearing away the things that keep us from knowing Him more. He is just, but He is gentle. I am so grateful that amidst showing me the ugly parts of me that need to go, He holds me close and reminds me of how His blood has beautified me and how precious I am to Him. He doesn't need to do either of those things. But blessed God! He does both.

Just a few more days until I drive back down to Kentucky, once again embarking on a new journey into a new job and new city and new life. Sometimes I worry about it, but God says to me, "I am faithful to work in the little crevices of your heart, so trust me to be faithful in working out the bigger details of your life."

I do trust Him. Oh, for grace to trust Him more!

If you haven't already, please consider helping support me for this next year of my internship in Louisville. You can read about it and donate here.

Thanks for sharing in life with me, y'all.

May the Lord lead your hearts into a full understanding and expression of the love of God and the patient endurance that comes from Christ. - 2 Thessalonians 3:5 NLT

be still, and know

I was sitting by my bedroom window, journaling prayers like, "Just tell me what to do and I'll do it," and "I'm so tired of thinking about this." Why. What. How. It isn't fair. I don't get it. Tell me.

Outside on the sidewalk, a little girl in bright pink capris and a pale pink hoody, her blonde hair in sloppy pigtails, pushed herself down the center of the apartment complex on her scooter. She must've hit a stone or a crack in the sidewalk, because she toppled over and just sat there, stunned.

Her pre-teen brother came up behind her on his skateboard. "Uh-oh. Are you okay?"

She started to wail like both her hands had been cut off. I remember those sidewalk falls: The way that pebbles and dirt would leave craters and scrapes on your palms and knees. Painful enough for tears, yes, but not for amputation-worthy screams.

"Come on, let's go inside." Her brother pulled her up by her elbow and she staggered into the grass as though now both her ankles had been broken.

She screamed louder, and I was amused. Children.

Then her dad came around the corner. "Are you okay?" He asked calmly. "Let Daddy see."
She howled.
"Roxine. Let Daddy see."
More wailing.
"Roxine."
Intense, gut-deep screams.
"ROXINE."
Silence.
"Let Daddy see."
He looked at her hands and led her inside their apartment.

That's when I started laughing. I had judged this little girl like a righteous adult thinking, "Oh, how wee little ones overreact to their surroundings."

But then I realized that I am that tiny pink girl, focusing so hard on the little scrapes and screaming so loudly, and God just so patiently stands by waiting for me to calm down enough for Him to heal me.

I think that "be still, and know that I am God" could also be translated into the profound, soul-changing truth that the Lord is trustworthy to be completely vulnerable with.

He knows you, heart and soul, and He will never stop loving you. He never asks you to figure it out or transform yourself. He just wants to be the fullness of who He is, in you. It's up to us to let Him.

Let Daddy see.