In the past few weeks my life has felt like an orchestra. A series of events, unrelated, coming together to produce one single message:
I lack. I fail. I fall. Often. I am woman and yet still very much little girl needing my Daddy’s guardrails.
But to stay beholden to my brokenness makes my sin and failings (and, ultimately, my own effort) as my god.
So I adore. True repentance produces a life-song: adoration. And adoration as a lifestyle is teaching me how to repent.
It’s not about what I’m not but who He is.
This is how my heart is beginning to thaw and soften to this man Jesus. Practice. His truth – His Word – becoming the word I believe about me and about Him.
So each Monday, the column of adoration to the right-side of my blog will move front-and-center, here, and I’ll invite others who are doing the same — stretching their heart to lift God’s Word up and back to Him, despite every obstacle the day presents — to add their link below under “Choosing Adoration”. You can link people back here from your post by grabbing the code on the right side of my blog. If you don’t have a blog but are, yourself, a lover of words and of God and of God’s word, feel free to add an adoration of your own in the comment section. Whether there is one of us or one hundred, we will give Him the praise He’s due.
If I say, “My foot slips,” Your mercy, O Lord, will hold me up. In the multitude of my anxieties within me, Your comforts delight my soul. Psalm 94:18-19**
I whisper it under my breath before the sun has taken its position of proclaiming the day’s start: “I can’t do this by myself.”
“My foot slips,” to say it and know who is receiving it makes all the difference. What once was a sheepish confession now is a declaration in the face of You.
I am not; You are.
Your mercy is readily dispensed over my weakness, You made me to receive this. Who You are — God — is merciful. You look with kind eyes on me, Your daughter, knowing full-well who I am and who I am not. I am safe in Your mercy.
Your mercy invites, it calls, it embodies hospitality in the deepest sense. Your house is my house. I’m no longer visitor but family. You make me welcome in You, God, not just despite my failings but because of my failings. Your protocol is not of this world.
The recognition of what I am not yet allows me to begin to understand who You are.
I come to You, and I trade in the bi-product of not really knowing the Man to whom I’ve chosen to say yes, for the beauty of being known. Anxiety for soul delight, You offer a banquet for my starved soul. How can I not forfeit minutes over to adoration for hours of pleasure in Your presence?
I worship You, God of readily-available comfort, comfort so “other.” I adore You, God who has strength to match my weakness. I thank You for the deep delight I find on Your doorstep.
God of delight, You are my delight. My soul’s thirst is met by Your river. It doesn’t end. You’ve cracked the door and I’m undone with one touch from You and yet You still say “there’s more.” There is not one single need or discomfort of heart that surfaces which You cannot meet.
You turn my minutes around. You turn me upside down. And I find You here.
**For a context to this little space on my blog, read: Why I Adore. You can easily subscribe to these devotional meditations as they are delivered, by using this feed: http://www.EveryBitterThingisSweet.com/posts/chai/feed or by entering your email address in the second box on the right-hand side… (scroll up a bit).
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