Define the Days

I've felt a little dizzy lately, life dizzy. I like goals and things to strive for. I can say they define me, they give me an equilibrium. But, what to do when I've asked to be transformed, and he's said to transform I must set aside my goals. He asks me to Just Be. I respond in shocked tones, I can't just be because I have to BE in the process of  running at break neck speed toward a goal. I wander lost, feeling dizzy and I don't know quite what to do with  my moments.

So restless and I don't know how to rest.  I keep looking for purpose, things to define who I am, define what I do. I exhaust myself. I'm wiped out like at the beach when I wade deep and I try to run in thigh high water and it swirls resistance around my legs. I barely move, so I lift my knees higher and higher hoping to accelerate but a crawl would pass me. Fighting the resistance I get the blood pumping fast, the body likely to pass out. Results of going it all on my own. The body is exhausted, this woman, friend, wife, mother, daughter, sister, frail beating heart, they have been exhausted.

Sunday service and the topic, The Tower of Babel. Babel needed to repent. They had a goal, to make a name for  themselves. I am chief architect in the town. They all came together with the same language and united man is capable of great things. In their unity they decided to build a winding staircase to heaven. They're telling God where to descend.

God doesn't need a staircase.

But here in this little slice of domestic suburbia I am forever building towers. I jot out plans for this blog and that business and  there are so many ways I can BE successful. I like to create my fairy world and tell God where to show up. His response is to again ask  me...  girl, Just Be, in me. When he says it I shake my head, "Silly God, don't you know I can BE so much  more if I ...." and I know he chuckles at my childishness. I think sometimes he longs for me to have the rest of the sentence.

But first he asks that I learn this.

Learn to find my definition solely in him and in him let the definition define my days. And I love him and when I shelve my architectural drawings I am amazed at all he chooses to do with me. His plans are grand.

I long for a heart that embraces his resistance. A heart that follows Isaiah's lead and learns to Just Be so that all my writings, speaking, teaching and living....

Give praise to the LORD, proclaim his name;
make known among the nations what he has done,
and proclaim that his name is exalted,

~Isaiah 12:4

Check out Ann and her contest for a generous scholarship to attend She Speaks. She Speaks is a conference for women. A place  to come  together and connect to the heart of God. It aligns with my heart's desire, a desire to offer up my humble stumblings on this road we journey, offer up my meager thoughts, lessons learned that I  might be a directional sign pointing to him.
 

Time to Grow

She writes, she speaks and it is halting with rough edges but it makes her blood run fast and her heart beat a new rhythm. The pains of this world are real and she's choked if they're not typed onto a screen. She suffocates if they're not shared. Where to go and grow with this raw gift and heart's desire?

My first opportunity to speak, high school. Asked to give my testimony, I batted around ideas for weeks, it was the night before the event when I knew what I had to say. They were words spoken through me as I stood on the pitcher's mound squeaking into a microphone. Blood pumped loud in my ears and I spoke way too fast. I wondered when the crisp, fall day warmed so, as I dripped sweat in my blazer and boots, dressed to dash to work at the completion of my speech.

It would be as much as a week later when I would learn how God used sweaty, squeaky me to affect a life. She sat in bleachers on that sunny day. I don't know how she came to be there.  I never learned her name. It was a youth conference. I'm sure she expected youth related discussion, I doubt she expected to hear a voice from the Lord on her struggle whether to birth the life growing inside her. I never got to meet her. I only saw the face of one who loved her, I heard the joy, as tears streamed down, because she chose life. God met her there. I got to be a conduit.

Therein lies the passion. To be a conduit. A bent, warped wire that plugs into God. My God, the one who saved me and likes to use my broken, messy life to electrify folks around me. He can take my rough edges, sweaty palms and stuttering ums and act like a defibrillator to damaged, wounded and failing hearts. It's God's version of Economics in the sin world. All that is sinful of me shared to bring His glory. I'll do what He asks to be used for such eternal purposes.

The act of becoming 'She Speaks' or 'She Writes' seems simple, yet no passion worth pursuit happens without discipline, wisdom and knowledge. That's why I am applying for a 'She Speaks' Cecil Murphy Conference Scholarship. I have a rugged gift of writing and inspiration. With the help of others, like Lysa Terkeurst, who are further along I'd like to hone and polish, make the most of gifts granted.