Into the Fire

I’m finding I’m not so absorbed in making the words sing as I am in making them speak clearly . . . with passion . . . with emotion . . . securing a “knowing” from their readers, a familiarity and an identity.

I’m finding that time is irrelevant in creation of novels. It gives, it takes from us, but we press on with what we have, how we have it, and feel guilty or graced by how we secure it, catch it, use it, or waste it. We are imperfect in all we do and all we produce—and even in all we say . . . unless the Lord Himself intervenes and places His anointing, His divine touch and flavor and, yes, His emotion upon and within it, upon and within them.

I’m finding it is more important to give the purpose of it all right back to God and quit coveting it in my selfish dreams of what it could be instead of what it is.

I’m finding I am often too noisy, too bent on changing the world as I see it, too wanting to impact and influence and invigorate and impassion . . . when the still small voice is the greatest, often the loudest in the silence, and always the most powerful.

I’m finding that my differences are peculiar to me, separating me from feeling “a member”, from the crowd, from the reasonable sometimes, but allowing me to be who I am in the maze.

I’m finding that through it all I do change, and I grow in patience which in itself is a miracle. I’m not stagnant, but I am firm in what I’ve learned. Solid in the density of believing in how I perceive what I recognize as undesirable.

I’m finding I have acquired discernment from the generosity of the Spirit—I am not without gifts—not the lone individual God has forgotten. No, He has amply provided vision and the passion to sustain it, the desire to set fire to the immovable opinion, to the “required” agenda, to the herd-like acceptance.

Finding . . . you, Lord, is the greatest thing I do daily. The greatest, most beautiful and fulfilling thing this earth has to offer. Life is truly in you. Nowhere else is it found. Nor is love in anyplace else. Nor perfection . . . Thank you, God, for finding me. Thank you, Jesus, for giving yourself for me. Thank you, Holy Spirit, for indwelling this ragged temple. Thank you for your unique relationship that is above all others, perfect on your side of it and willing to participate in my failings and insecurities and love me anyway. Thank you for it all, in the Name of Jesus. Amen.

*Please pray for Kristy Dykes. These are especially hard times for this brave woman.*