that dang white flag

Lord, hear me tonight.

The grace in my heart is low, and the amount of Your presence that I feel in my heart is just shy of empty, if I'm being painfully honest. I'm frantically searching for my white flag, as my wish is to throw it at your feet. The feet that were horrifically nailed to a shabby wooden cross; no place for a King like Yourself. The feet that walked many miles, touched many lives, and saw so much sin. I don't know how You did it.

A thought slid into my mind tonight as I sat on my bed. A thought, maybe two, maybe three, questioning my worthiness. Questioning whether or not this life was for me. The life of selflessness, the life of joy, the life of love: it makes me tired sometimes, and my weariness set in tonight. But The Lord decided to take up for me in the quiet way that sometimes angers me (why can't it all be floods and other painfully honest signs?). He quickly made the assessment that weariness is not a thing that needs a home in my heart, and He sent it away and sent my fingers to fly across this keyboard. And it made me kneel at his feet all the more.

I asked myself if this was the life for me. Living for a relationship that I'm not always too certain about, pouring my heart and time into a god that sometimes isn't as loud as I would like Him to be. Maybe I don't want my heart to be a servant's heart, maybe I just want it to be mine. Is that really a lot to ask? This one little piece of me? It can't be worth that much, which is the precise reason that I'm asking for it.

I had a long talk with a friend of mine named Ainsley. We talked about the heart, and how purely, skillfully, and wisely that The Lord created it. How He desired only the purest love come from it, and how that heart be rightfully His. We talked about how purity isn't just not having sex until you're married, but it's keeping your heart pure as well. Leaving it for the Creator to mend back into something beautiful. But I'm not here to preach to you about purity, or preach about anything, for the matter.

It's funny how God mends my heart, so quietly, so swiftly, and so precise. How He molds my restless into longing, my broken into beautiful. How He takes all the toxic acid that I thought might feel nice, and puts true joy in. How He breaks me in just the right way, so that I can be put together all the beautiful again by those glorious hands that won't stop no matter how much I protest. The Lord is so relentless, but so steady. I think that that's something the world and myself could learn a thing or two about.

So tonight I'm asking for bravery and for relentlessness. That I'm brave when it comes to following my sweet Jesus, and that I'm brave when I'm convinced that I can't see the Light anymore. That I'm relentless in my love for the Lord, and relentless when it comes to following Him.

I don't know what You see in me, Lord, that you would pay so much for. But I'm praying that I see it too. But that I see You first, front and center and in that big ole' spotlight, right where You belong and right where I need You.

And friends, don't ever never ever ever never think that for a second this is me writing. This is 100% Jesus, and -10000000000000% me.

Thank you for caring about these words.

-Lin

(P.S. throwing in the white flag doesn't solve anything; that's when the real fun (and joy and every wonderful thing you could possibly think of) starts to happen.