Today was supposed to be wonderful—beautiful. Lauryn’s recital is tonight. The sun is shining. Everything is beautiful. I am at peace, in love with the Lord, seeing His working, enjoying His power. Until the most horrible thing I can imagine happened. Precious Savior, what kind of tricks are you playing on me? I’m clinging to what I know, trying to convince myself of the truth: You don’t play tricks. If this is what You need to do to break me, to make me perfect in Your image, I must accept it. You’ll have to handle the gladly part of that, because it’s not coming for me.
Lord, could there be an agony
Greater than what faces me?
My heart and soul have turned to stone,
Yet I am still Thy precious own
Bought through an agony so great
Thou spilled Thy drops of blood as sweat.
Beside Thy grief, my own is weak.
I am Thy own. That’s all I seek.
They left me home alone. I sobbed all morning, curled up tight, sheltering my head with my arms. Then I dashed out of the house and down the trail, running like the wind. Finally, worn out and determined to stop crying, to forget it, to let it go, since I can’t change it, I showered, washed my face and made up a to-do list for the day. But just when I think I can get busy and distract myself with a project, my distraction meets a dead-end. I’ve prayed through my prayer chain, I’ve played through several hymns on trusting and sung praises at the top of my lungs. Anything to keep me focused on something else. Anything to drive my assailants away. I’m left clinging to my only hope: Jesus. He loves me. He cares for me. He purchased me with His blood. He is refining me. This is a part of His vast, eternal plan for my perfection, for my sanctification. All things work for good to those who love God and are called according to His purpose. He’ll buy back even the most horrible day and make it beautiful in His time and His way.
Lord, my heart can only cling
To Thee, it seems that everything
Will yield against the storms like this;
Betray my soul with one small kiss.
So stand and raise Thine arms on high,
Wake my Savior, lest I die!
Calm the winds and calm the waves.
Thou art God who makes and saves.
I’ve been through the gamut of emotions now and have at last settled into a deadly calm. I just came in from a walk (yes, another). It’s a startlingly beautiful day, so I stood in the meadow, praying first, then absorbing, meditating and finally praising. Warm wind caressing my face and toying with my hair sent little shivers of peace down my spine. This is just an awkward bump in the road to becoming a gracious woman, and will teach me so much more patience and humility with others. No? Fifty years from now I’ll look back and laugh. In eternity, it won’t even matter. Learn from it, I must. Be knocked down by it? Never.
Not while Jesus holds my hand.
Already He has been by my side. I’ve spent the entire day humbled before Him, in communion with Him, singing to Him and praying to Him. Isn’t this the result I beg for? Who am I to question the route? If it takes days like this to drive me close to Him, I must learn to welcome them joyfully, to embrace them whole-heartedly and to live in them knowing He is at work in me both to will and to work for His good pleasure.
Lord, I stand before Thee now.
I humbly and contritely bow
Since that is what Thou seeks of me,
I come to Thee on bended knee.
I worship and adore my Lord--
Thou deserves to be adored--
Forgetting worry, fear and shame
In wonder at Thy matchless name.
Lauryn’s recital was fun, beautiful and brilliant—just like her. Watching her on stage, I felt so small, childish and second-rate. She’s a beautiful, mature woman. I’m just a little girl, but right now it’s okay to be small and childish if I can climb up in my heavenly Father’s lap and lay my head against His chest. Which I’m doing, and I’m gaining strength, gaining momentum, gaining confidence in Him and His work. Nothing He does is less than perfect—once finished. I am no exception.
Lord, I’ve built my life on Thee
And need not fear the raging sea.
Those around me scorn and talk
But I am safe upon Thy rock.
Solid through the storms of time,
For Thou art greater, more sublime
Than ageless time, much less this breath
I call my life—until my death.