oh my lord, your grace

I can't really say that ive been rejoicing lately. My heart hasn't felt it.

I can't say that the bags under my eyes havent begged for makeup, my back has longed for more ice than Antartica contains and more Advil than you can find in all the Walgreens combined. 

I can't say that my heart has been satisfied on a daily basis, or that I have been patient with my brothers and sisters in the Lord. I can't say that I've been a 1 Peter 3:3-7 girlfriend, or that I've been the most loving friend I could be. I can't say that I've read my bible everyday, and I most certainly can not say that I haven't wished that God would just give me a day off and call me back in the morning. 

You know me. I'm gonna talk about how I don't have my crap together, how My sweetest Jesus does, and how he sews my heart together yet again. I chant this to myself; it's my life story. 

I talked with a friend this Sunday. About how I've been cheating myself out of prayer and out of trust through my horrendous back. I was ashamed when I realized that I had been lying to myself and to God about His plan, about how when I thought I was putting my full trust into Him, I was just gritting my teeth and hoping that someone who's actually powerful would come rescue me from pain. 

Oh, but how my God loves. Oh, how He still winks at me daily through grandparents and flowers and hymns. But mostly, my heart is kneeling at His feet, because I've fallen short yet again, friends. But He picked me back up, dusted me off, and through me back into my little life so that I could find joy in Him yet again, and so that I could fail another time and come running back into His arms. My golly, my Father knows me too well. 

I thought it was kind of hard when pastors and friends and strangers would say that following Jesus is hard. I wanted to defend Him, saying that "I know you're strong, I don't believe what those mean peasants say about you." I wanted smirk at them, flex, and tell them how strong we would be together. How nothing would make me look back, and how nothing would ever be hard as I drowned in The Lords love. 

Lol how wrong I was. But at least I was right about one thing: you don't wish you could go back. 

Do I look back over my shoulder? Occasionally. Occasionally I begin to turn my head, and Jesus takes my chin in His gentle hands, so that I can feel the love coursing through His fingers, and I can feel the beloved wounds where the nails used to be. He lets me look at him and awe and wonder how I could ever leave something so precious and perfect. 

And I'm thankful for those looks that keep me going, that keep me waking up every morning at some ungodly hour. That keep the grace flowing into my heart and into the lives of my brothers and sisters that are so much more to me than that name. Man, am I thankful for grace. 

I hope you give yourself a break. I hope you run to where He calls you with the biggest grin on your face, and I hope that wen you trip on the way, that you let Him dust you off and help you start again. I hope you let Him, friend. 

kneeling at my cross yet again, 

        -Lin