it’s still beating me up.
last night the occasional wrist pain i’d had since wednesday flared into stabbing constancy, and i sat down on the couch, irritated my productivity had been decimated so entirely from this tiny part of my body.
do you know how little a right-handed person can do with a stabbingly painful right wrist?!
i couldn’t even open my own bag of gummy bears.
it was clearly a critical situation.
how often do i charge full speed ahead into ALL THE THINGS before pain breaks me over a full stop? how often do i regard the heart-pain as an inconvenience, an irritation, God, just make it go away.
because i can’t do anything.
because it hurts too much.
there’s peace in His purpose but we run with the turmoil, full-tilt to tarshish.
today i had to stop, breathe deep, and remember what may be an inconvenience and utterly incomprehensible to me in the present is God working out His purpose across the ages. working in me, through me, for me, or with me, or any combination of those, or all of those.
God, you have been our dwelling place throughout all generations: the emphasis is mine, and it is the reminder that He is not just my God but our God, not just our God right now but our grandparents’ God and our great-great-grandparents’ God and so on and so forth.
and our dwelling place: the place for us to rest, to let it all go, to be the truest sense of ourselves. we come most fully alive in the Father but because we aren’t perfect there will never be a revival without pain.
may it bring me back to you, Father. may it cause me to face You and lay down my sorry mess and turn away from what i once thought was good to what i know is good and holy and true.
teach me the strong peace, the filling stillness.