I know, it’s been a while since I last let my heart spill on blank pages. But here I am.
I just wanted to let you know that I was thinking of YOU. I was thinking of US. And I was letting my heart break for those of us that have felt like we’ve been drowning in muckiness this year. Like we were smothered by the weight of our mistakes, circumstances, inward battles and deep wounds that have been cut open all over again.
I know the feeling. My entire being experiences it sometimes but the feelings have come far and few between.
I want to give you this moment, as you take in my words on this page, to go outside and look up. It’s October now and the air just feels right. There’s a coolness around us now: the sky is a bit clearer, the stars a bit more visible and though we may forget it sometimes, we are looking into the same sky that many great men and women have looked up to years ago. We are counted along with them in the twinkling, dark mass.
I came home from work this evening, windows down and sunroof open and I sensed something was cracking in my spirit. Everything used for my fortress around me has no longer been able to keep it together. The Living God has been knocking on it and the weight of His Glory is making progress because I have been slowly allowing it. Behind this fortress that I had built for myself there is nothing left for me at the table I chose to sit at. But I’ve had multiple occasions where I would peak over the walls and find a feast and The Father waiting for me. I glanced longingly at the deliciousness of His love and grace, forgiveness dripped like honey, hope looked refreshing to my dying soul and the smell of sweet peace for the future slipped under my nostrils. My mouth watered for such a fulfilling delicacy but the dirt and grime that accumulated shouted for me sit back down in my cracking, unstable chair. And so, I sat, but something deep down inside of me whispered that I would no longer be accustomed to the chair of a pauper for much longer. I’ve seen too much but I have yet to taste it.
As the cracking and Holy demolition continues, I am charged to tell you simply this:
The season in the physical is changing, but so is the spirit. The air is getting colder, leaves are turning, dying and falling and so will the chains.
They have rusted.
They are breaking.
And they will fall around your feet.
The weight, feelings of drowning and our dirt covered selves will be no more and the tears will no longer be from sadness and condemnation, but of joy and liberation. Fall will bring out the most beautiful death in us because there will be room for the harvest. Winter will come shortly and its bone-chilling air will push us into the warm arms of Abba. Seeds of something beautiful will be planted in our hearts and new life will begin again.
But we must allow death to take its course.
Beautiful things cannot take place amongst dying soil and sick roots.
Take in this beautiful, uncomfortable part of life, my friend. Let every stronghold, evil thought, mistake, and problem die, and fall at the Cross. Don’t long to hold onto it, don’t crave the bitter, foul and unsatisfactory taste. Cry in your broken, human nature if you must. And then rise up, push past the rubble of your fallen fortress and take your permanent place at the table and feast underneath the stars that shine for you.
Steep in this season.
Steep in these fall nights.