You
do not delight in sacrifice, or I would bring it;
you do not take pleasure in burnt offerings.
My sacrifice, O God, is a broken spirit;
a broken and contrite heart
you, God, will not despise.
you do not take pleasure in burnt offerings.
My sacrifice, O God, is a broken spirit;
a broken and contrite heart
you, God, will not despise.
Psalms
51:16-17 (NIV)
I left
typical living behind nearly 5 years ago. Atypical is better. Five years ago I lived
the life I’d imagined; an interesting and vibrant career, volunteer
opportunities within my community, a little money to burn, easy children, a
healthy husband, not too much, but more than enough reason to feel blessed. I
still feel blessed, but I left typical living behind nearly 5 years ago.
Without warning,
life dumped me on my head. Hearing my granny’s voice, I reminded myself that what
doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. I picked myself up, squared my shoulders, brushed
the dust off my bruised ego and, walking away from the ashes of my former life,
reinvented myself. I like me better now. It’s not that old me wasn’t wonderful;
she was merely untested. I’ve had tests. Now I have testimonies.
Do I see
God in the middle of the small and ordinary? Daily. Sometimes moment by moment.
Without the distractions of my so-called typical life, I see more God because I
pay greater attention. It is not that He wasn’t always there; surely He Abides.
I did not maintain sufficient clarity and closeness to consistently pay
attention. Sometimes God prunes us in order to prepare for blooming. Occasionally, God choses to take what might
seem like everything away that we might remember from whence our provisions and
our God-sized dreams come. I am changed. I never want to live typical again.
What I couldn’t
know was that He’d break me first. I had
more of some things to give 5 years ago, the burnt offerings I thought He’d
desire. He wanted me. Broken. More than just surrendered, stilled, leaning on His
Everlasting Arms. Things that I’d seen
before looked different, because I was seeing differently. Things I’d heard
before I heard again.
He was always my provision. He was always my sustainer, whether I saw
through circumstances or not. Things I’d read before I read again. Promises
upon which I’d been raised finally resonated deep within my soul, like finally
finding My True Source. My Native Tongue. My intimate and sustaining worship of
My Father. Jabez’
prayer was no longer a formula. The promise of Joel 2 felt like a rhema
word for me. I’d heard it before but hear it again.
I will repay you
for the years the locusts have eaten—the great locust and the young
locust, the other locusts and
the locust swarm—my great army that I sent among you. You will have plenty
to eat, until you are full, and
you will praise the name of the Lord your God, who
has worked wonders for you; never again will my people be shamed. Then
you will know that I am in Israel, that I am the Lord your God, and
that there is no other; never again will my people be shamed. Joel 2:25-27 (NIV)
I left
typical living behind nearly 5 years ago. And whether the life I live know is
the live I’ll always live or whether He choses in His Perfect Will to repay or
restore what was, I am changed. I am broken. I am contrite. I am richly and
abundantly blessed. Despite the hardest things I have faced and will face, I am
comforted that in an imperfect world, a Perfect God loves us and abides with us
through all things. And, finally, having learned that one lesson, I will never
live typically AGAIN.
On Tuesdays,
I pray and and play with friends here...
