I was standing alone in a meddling crowd. Words of gossip swirled in the hot wind that tickled my face. The silvery sun was glittering on the river water, making it look like a bank of diamonds. I watched from a distance, just one big-eyed girl in a sea of wandering and curious faces, and He chose me. Dripping wet with sparkly water, emerging from the Jordan River, newly baptized and loving as ever, my Savior walked through the crowd and straight to me. He gently wrapped his strong and still wet hand around my shaking one and brought it to His heart.
“Stop trying to figure everything out on your own. I will carry you. Surrender. Let me take care you. Let me love you. I have it under control.”
I feel so full. I cry. I let His love drown out everything. I let it drown me.
Even though I feel at an anxious, broken, dry spot in my faith, maybe this season is at an end. It’s time to let go. It’s easier to breathe out here, away from the chaos that suffocates my soul. Jesus carries me in times like this. Even though I feel my feet aching from a treacherous climb and wonder where He is, this is where He is constantly at work. Tying and re-tying my torn up boots. I will survive. I will thrive. My savior is at work within me. When He breathed life into man (find verse Genesis), He breathed our souls into life too. Not only are we made physically in His image, but our very souls: our dreams, joys, hopes, desires, traits, personalities, are His image. Every. Single. Part. We are His.
I felt the Spirit tugging at my fringed heart last Sunday night at my youth group. I felt so incredibly numb at that time. When I felt like I was boxed in a plastic daily routine, He took the lid off and showed me life beyond my artificial society. I imagined myself in this story. It was amazing.
My mosaic heart is waiting this season, but He is writing His story right on it. He’s picking out the pieces and turning my shattered heart into a masterpiece. And I will let Him.
Be still and know that I am God.
Be still and know that I am.
Be still and know.
And the salt in my wounds isn’t burning any less than it used to, it’s not that I don’t feel the pain, it’s just I’m not afraid of hurting anymore. And the blood in these veins isn’t pumping any less than it ever has, and that’s the hope I have, the only thing I know that’s keeping me alive.
Paramore, “Last Hope”
P.S. It’s so interesting to wonder what people are like. I went into Downtown Denver last spring with just my camera and took pictures of all the graffiti I saw. A lot of them were hopeful. Some graffiti is beautiful. I felt a sense of wonderment at the talent it takes, and probably the lives it saves as well. It fascinates me.
One thought on “Just a Spark”
Absolutely beautiful ❤