Psalm 2:12 Blessed are all those who put their trust in Him.**
I lift the blind-slats quietly, trying not to wake my husband, enveloped in sleep. I settle in to my morning-perch, hopeful on this particular day. Yesterday I entered the mental battleground. I ignored the Do Not Enter signs and engaged the battle instead of worshiping.
We went to bed whispering prayers of healing over my wayward soul and I woke up expectant because of the mercies-new awaiting me. Ready to have one phrase lifted up in adoration change me. Ready to have You change me. Today. And maybe forever.
Trustworthy. Is there anyone who is capable of holding my trust?
You.
You beckon me forth and, when I go, You call me blessed.
Most like me who run to You — desperate to find a trust that won’t crumble underneath the weight of our expectations — see themselves as anything but blessed. Living as ones who can not trust, the mark on us, not on those who have let us down. Skeptical, we are. Cynical, left to trust only ourselves, but secretly aware that those who can not trust are not, themselves, truly trustworthy. Living out of our pain, we can’t dare support another.
Broken girl, broken dreams, heart full of slivers and You. You introduce me to trust. You say trust is found in You. I shrink back, protect. You gently lead me out, with story.
You offer a new kind of trust. One that, the more I look upon the One who holds it the more I want to offer at His feet. Not the kind of this world – trembling with uncertainty, tentative, and forever getting smaller. But one like a seed, planted in my core – my innermost part, growing up to bear fruit. I am welling up with a new kind of Trust, searching for more opportunities to lean and find You unbending.
Seeking, searching, pressing into You with all my might and laughing as fear falls away and a new history is written. The Man, Trust, at its center.
I adore You, Trustworthy, and You call me blessed. I bless You, Trustworthy, for the little and then the big and then the little again – stories of the check in the mail at the last minute, the conversation over coffee whose simple words brought a relationship-restoration of years, the crumbled-on-the-waiting-room floor body whose hopelessness You visited at death’s diagnosis.
Oh, I bless You Jesus. Even now, I can feel Your trustworthiness wrapped around me and I want more by which to trust You so I can live more of this moment. Your hand, wrinkled, and worn around me, its calluses reflecting centuries of stories of those who found their safety in it and You, who weathered their worst-moments. I am cupped in it, lost in it, forever safe.
I pour my trust at Your feel. And You call me blessed. And I want to walk it out even more still. Adoption-fears, marriage not-yets, middle-of-the-night mommy woes enlarge my capacity for trust. Not because I want an enlarged destiny, but because I want a greater encounter of the heart with You, Jesus.
When my fear meets Your answer, I am blessed.
Today, I am blessed.
Because of You, blessing is wrapped up in my very bones.
**So what do I do with these posts, you ask, other than just read them? First, if you haven’t yet, read: Why I Adore to give you a context for this little space on my blog. (This post also gives context.)
If you are compelled, I invite you to participate. Set up a space and time in your own life to begin adoring. Over laundry or dinner dishes, on your commute to work, or in the wee morning hours — ten minutes is a great start. You can use the verse I list here every day or two as a launch pad for your own adoration.
Then practice praise.
Add to my adoration here, by posting a comment with your own words back to God about God …or hide it in your heart.
I promise your weary soul won’t regret it.
***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)
Additionally, all of the Morning Chai Posts can be seen, in the order of posting, by clicking here or adding this address to your reader: EveryBitterThingisSweet.com/posts/chai
