Sunday, May 04, 2008

Old Pages

Today I found an old journal. I love that I have documentation of the following events:

10.19.03 -- NYC
(note: this was my second time to ever visit NYC)
Maybe I feel a little bit like this City... like I am somewhat intriguing and mysterious, but only from a distance. Only if you are looking at the skyline in a photograph or from the bridges that surround it. And then once you get close to it in real life, it is overwhelming, unattractive, all horns and sirens, cold and harsh.

But this is a lie. First of all, my heart is good. I know this because God gave me a new heart when He redeemed me and He said that it is good. When I read "Waking the Dead," I knew that I needed to be awakened, that God's truth needed to dictate my perspective instead of the lies that Satan sneaks into my world so frequently.

And second, this City is stunning. Even up close, even from the inside, even from the concrete. Maybe even more so. I have never known another city like it...


11.09.03 -- Houston
(note: although I was touring in Houston, I still lived in Nashville)
I'm begging for Your direction in my life. Part of me feels like I might not be meant for Nashville much longer. Maybe this is nothing, but...


But maybe not! Hah!! (For the record, I moved to NYC a year later.)

Mostly, though, the journal had a theme: there was a lot of waiting. Waiting for sanctification, waiting for understanding, waiting for action, waiting for healing. Waaaaaiting. And so I wrote this today at the end of my journal:

This lesson will be life-long, but You are so gracious to strengthen my muscles and my faith - to teach me the gentle art of waiting, of keeping a quiet heart. It's hard, You know, to wait for a God who wears no watch... to try to discern the timing of a King who is somehow both in every moment but also beyond time itself.

I read these old entries filled with stories of my brokenness, my mistakes, my damned relentless hope, but mostly of Your goodness and Your guidance and the nights you carried my broken body to the foot of Your cross. Where I belong. There really is no end to Your love for me, is there? Even as I sit waiting... yesterday, today, tomorrow... You sit beside me smiling, knowing that You will walk with me through all the waiting left to do. Until You finally carry me Home.

And honestly, as much as I curse it and am bruised by it, please know that I love the relentless hope You've given me. You are beautiful, so sweet to me, so tender in the waiting...

Your love for me makes me giddy. Absolutely giddy.


livinghope said...

I hope you don't mind, but i quoted part of this in my blog, as it really grabbed my attention. If you would rather I removed it just say. I though it would be rude if i didn't check that's ok with you.

Anonymous said...

In an excerpt from The Message's paraphrase of Job 10:2-7, this jumped out at me the other day. It's really been sticking in my head when I complain about waiting here lately.

"Unlike us, you're not working against a deadline.
You have all eternity to work things out."

I love seeing this, that your prayers were answered even more abundantly than you imagined. My hope still lives!

Amanda Michele Steed said...

How funny, lately I've been looking at old journals of mine and doing the same kind of reflecting - inventory. I love your prayer and your gratefulness, what an inspiration to those of us who are still stuck in the clouds, waiting for that clarity. You're beautiful, TLC - Jesus beams from your heart.