Praise and Worship

 

She danced before the mercy seat gracefully performing for the Holy One.  He watched her with great pleasure, not at the beauty of her movements or the wind her body created causing her unblemished gown to flow and glide with every twirl and twist; His pleasure was in what was to become of her. Naturally, it was a beautiful dance.  Her feet bounced and tapped at every beat.  Her arms displayed the beauty of the music that surrounded the atmosphere.  Outwardly, she gave Him her apparently flawless performance, working hard to please Him with her dance of praise.

But inwardly, her heart moaned.  She felt inadequate in His presence.  She saw His splendor piercing her through her peripheral vision as her body tasked itself to please Him with a flawless dance.  She wanted to show Him her love and allegiance through this deliberate, preconceived, rehearsed, and perfectly timed performance of devotion to Him.  Then He would see.  Then He would know.  He has everything.  All of her.  Her heart softly whispered to Him, See how hard I’ve worked for you?  See how I’ve practiced my steps for your pleasure?  See how my body memorized these steps to entertain You?

He just watched, waiting…

One, two, three, four….repeat

One, two,three, four….repeat

She delighted in the flawlessness of her praise. One, two, three…. NO! 

The pain of the misstep was severe.  On her knees she fell, left ankle throbbing, music still blaring. The King watching intently.

Jesus!  Jesus! She screamed out. Jesus. My praise! My King.  I wanted to delight you! I wanted to praise you! I wanted to show you my love for you!

He turned His eyes from her.  His eyes turned downward.

She read disappointment.  She read failure. He is displeased. 

Unable to walk, she crawled to Him. On her hands and knees she crawled. Her tears wet the floor as she eased her way towards Him.

It was as if every wound in her heart paralyzed her body.  Every scar removed, every bandage unwrapped, all medicine flushed.  She was raw and exposed.  The consequence of feigned and failed perfection coupled with the realization that her sins splattered out across the floor. He can’t see me like this. 

Oh but He did.

She edged to Him.  Hands shaking to grasp Him at His feet. Her hands edged their way up, gripping his ankles. She opened her eyes and looked straight through the holes in His feet. Reaching down to touch the wound, she realized she had caused his foot to become dirty. She began to wipe away the stain from His skin. The more she wiped, the more stained He became. She wiped harder, and He began to bleed! Oh Jesus! I’m sorry!  I’ve caused you to bleed. 

He reached down and touched her head. “Rise up. Come to me.”

She lifted herself off the floor and reached into His embrace.

…and they danced.

 

Joy

I woke up 3 times last night with my heart pounding. I don’t know what I dreamed of, but I had great fear. My anxiety level is high. I’m trying so hard to choose joy, but I continue to fail and let my worry and anger and fear overcome me…though its mainly subconscious. I asked God today how I can go on and how I can handle such things. He reminded me of the peace that comes to me through writing. When I quit writing online, on this page, I did so because I thought my posts were too depressing and indicative of complaints. I stopped writing without “thinking” about it and started thinking too much. Also I’m not in the Word as I have been in the past. Joy is a fruit of the Spirit. It comes through Him. I can’t choose it on my own; I can only obtain it by His grace. This is the solution. The circumstances being solved in my favor isn’t, seeking Him is.

I need a lot right now….a lot! However, I need joy and peace more than anything.

Seek first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness…Then all these things will be added unto you.

Write

Do you ever have one of Those nights where the time passes you by?
The household sleeps yet you creep around like a dog in the night looking for a place of rest. I’m in one of those nights right now.
I’m lurking through the corners of my heart
Peering at old hurts and memories of events that made me who I am today.
I wonder where it fits into who I am at this moment.
It suggests regret, though I feel none of that.
There’s no time for shame and hostility towards my former self; yet, I give myself permission to observe the bruises and scars left by perceptions and pain that drove me to join together the need to survive with God given idiosyncrasies.
In this I realize I have been carrying my load as a weary traveler lugging dirty clothes on a wheeled carrier filled with the remnants of a journey that has past.

The only thing I hear In this night silence is a subtle command,”write.”

Speak

When I am conflicted
And feeling afflicted
I turn to You Lord.
I reach for Your Word
To give me answers.

Showers of grace and mercy;
Revelation in my midst.
The more I learn of Your ways,
The more I study Your good name,
The more amazed I become!

Spoken Word, written
From the days of Old.
Constant relevance
Still reigning true
In Yours truly.

No other do I love
Above You;
My trust falls in You.
I will not go forward
Until I hear from You.

Once the Word speaks,
This daughter moves.
Until then, I am still.
In Your whispering,
Lord, I trust in you.

Ode & Lament

ODE TO My Stolen Bible

It is not without deep sadness
Since you slipped from my careless hands
That I consider your location
I never thought I took you for granted
But looking back I know I could have known you more
Yet you’re gone
And I can only pray
You are found
By one who needs you
Who treasures you
More than I ever did

You were my precious possession
And I am lost
That you are lost
And Pray you find the lost-
Or the lost finds you
Where are you?
In a dumpster…
A graveyard for filth
Covered in the feces of mankind?
Are you in a dark corner?
Waiting on brokenness to peer at you,                                                                                       Just glance your way?

Is she lost and lonely?

Poor and wretched?

Is he ready for freedom?

will you feed those with a pattern of past predicaments and pain?

Lord, let the Spirit that makes all things new

Beckon a broken soul to the pages created from your precious breath

Let my loss be someone’s eternal gain.

I miss my Bible
Even though I have 4 on the shelf.