Weathering fallen hopes and unexpected failures will train your heart to hide in corners and shadows.
Or to shroud itself in anything impenetrable to prevent another breach of your pain threshold.
Time--if you're not careful--will teach your heart to fear. At least, that's what mine learned.
Last year, God told me that He wanted to teach me this instead.
Each day I reminded myself:
Put your hope in God,
Do not give way to fear.
I wanted so much to believe, for those words to own me.
He began to show me who He is and set me free... But it didn't feel like freedom at first.
It felt like His wrath.
He began by stripping away things that felt familiar and certain...
"Jesus absorbed Your wrath for me, right? Why this torture now?"
When I failed to be respond with faith in His words, faith in HIM actually, He pressed harder...
The process that felt like a cave was actually a tunnel. During much of it, I begged for an easy escape.
His healing only came to me when I actively wrestled my fear and made it submit to His love.
So when I woke in darkness on the first new mercies of this year, I asked Him, "What now?"
He took my hand, put my fingers to His lips, and quietly spoke Psalm 62:1-2 to me.
For God alone my soul waits in silence;
from Him comes my salvation.
He only is my rock and my salvation,
my fortress; I shall not be greatly shaken."
Then He repeated Himself, the way He does when He means business:
Two hours after He led me to those words, I found a tiny scrap of paper someone had written them on.
And so my New Year's Resolution, if you can call it that, is to learn to wait for Him alone.
I don't know yet how to learn this, but I know that I have a patient, loving teacher.
I step into The Ten, lighter for lack of fear, heavier for weight of hope.
"All the waiting that I've done, all the waiting yet to do."