One of the greatest temptations of my heart is
to start meditating on my own usefulness. I want the power of God to ignite my
life. I want to be a finely-tuned, stunningly-played instrument in his grand
orchestra. I want to become more and more like Jesus—my God—but never do I want
to fall into the trap of thinking that I am God. Without His life-giving power I
am dead. Without His skilled hand and mighty blow, I am a dusty hunk of metal.
Without Him—the great I Am—I am not even an I. My very existence is owing to
Him.
I want to be useful; this desire is good. But how do I hold the tension of walking in the good works the Lord has prepared in advance for me to do and yet not wallowing in the praise that follows them? A sinking ship overladen by the glory man gives--too great a weight for me to hold. Lord, take all the heavy praise I have robbed from you and blow your wind in my sails. Set me free to soar in your sea of grace.
Oh how I long to sail in this sea of grace, his ocean of love—to follow Him wherever he may lead. And yet, so often when I see his hand in a place, I remain there that I may experience his touch once more. But his hand moves... will I?
Stepping back into Micah, it is hard not to attach myself once again to this place. The Lord called me to surrender my life here with open hands, and I believe that I have. But the longer that I remain, the more my fingers start to clasp. Following the warm reception and praise I receive for my return, I tighten my grip, beginning to calculate my own perceived purpose and strategically mapping out my own journey. Believing the lie that I am a better author of my own story than the One who wrote me into His. Afraid that if I let the Lord lead, he is just going to ditch me when he is done with me. Afraid that I will lose the love the Lord has already proven is forever in his hands. But I know that if I want to hold onto water, that I ought not to clench my fists. If I want water I know I should cup my hands or, better yet, to jump into an ocean. So why do I consistently and desperately try to lay hold of a few drops in a bucket rather than taking the plunge?
Because each drop matters to me.
But too often I forget that each drop matters to the Lord, too—even more than to me—and I need to trust Him with each and every one. With each and every life, and with each and every moment. Not afraid to lose a single one—as I remember that each is an added pearl to long string of grace that has no end.
That said, dear friends and family, I don’t know where I will be in a few months. I don’t know where I will be in a few years. I don’t even know how many days remain for me on this earth. But I do know one thing: the Lord’s love has no end. And his mercy will keep me in his Hand all the way until the end. An end which is just the beginning of forever.
I want to be useful; this desire is good. But how do I hold the tension of walking in the good works the Lord has prepared in advance for me to do and yet not wallowing in the praise that follows them? A sinking ship overladen by the glory man gives--too great a weight for me to hold. Lord, take all the heavy praise I have robbed from you and blow your wind in my sails. Set me free to soar in your sea of grace.
Oh how I long to sail in this sea of grace, his ocean of love—to follow Him wherever he may lead. And yet, so often when I see his hand in a place, I remain there that I may experience his touch once more. But his hand moves... will I?
Stepping back into Micah, it is hard not to attach myself once again to this place. The Lord called me to surrender my life here with open hands, and I believe that I have. But the longer that I remain, the more my fingers start to clasp. Following the warm reception and praise I receive for my return, I tighten my grip, beginning to calculate my own perceived purpose and strategically mapping out my own journey. Believing the lie that I am a better author of my own story than the One who wrote me into His. Afraid that if I let the Lord lead, he is just going to ditch me when he is done with me. Afraid that I will lose the love the Lord has already proven is forever in his hands. But I know that if I want to hold onto water, that I ought not to clench my fists. If I want water I know I should cup my hands or, better yet, to jump into an ocean. So why do I consistently and desperately try to lay hold of a few drops in a bucket rather than taking the plunge?
Because each drop matters to me.
But too often I forget that each drop matters to the Lord, too—even more than to me—and I need to trust Him with each and every one. With each and every life, and with each and every moment. Not afraid to lose a single one—as I remember that each is an added pearl to long string of grace that has no end.
That said, dear friends and family, I don’t know where I will be in a few months. I don’t know where I will be in a few years. I don’t even know how many days remain for me on this earth. But I do know one thing: the Lord’s love has no end. And his mercy will keep me in his Hand all the way until the end. An end which is just the beginning of forever.
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