After a long and weary road of being Jonah, I have once again (finally) come to the conclusion that surrender is, after all, a beautiful thing. Whether we run away from God because of hurt or pain or apathy or anger or whatever other reason, we only end up hurting ourselves in the process. Surrendering to God always brings intense relief, peace, contentment, and a sense of grounding. The floor is no longer shaking beneath my feet-it’s solid and real.
I don’t know why I keep doing this, but either way, it’s good to be back in His arms. It’s not safe, and it’s not easy, but it’s the best and most peaceful place to be. The most secure.
A while ago, I wrote this poem, and I’ve shared it a few times on this blog. But I keep experiencing layers of it, and today is yet another day when Like a Dance is relevant, so here it is once again. Happy Monday, everyone. xxx
Like a Dance
I am not interested in the mediocre.
Destiny, breathless, alive, fire.
These are a few of my favorite words.
I am not interested in living on the edge;
I am interested in jumping off it.
Let me fade, let Him grow clearer.
Where I am, I am in the way.
Where I walk, I walk in the wrong direction.
He is a breathless symphony;
He is the beat in my heart
and the fire in my chest.
Where I am mediocre,
He is extravagant.
Where words fail me,
His song always prevails.
He is adventure; He is love.
He is raging fire; He is a silent wind.
Being with Him is like a dance;
a dance none of us know,
a dance we once knew
and now must learn.
He leads and we follow;
He goes and we go after,
into places strange, unseen.
God of mountains, God of seas
God of the tempest and the firestorm:
take me there.
I am contemplating what it is to be the change. To be the miracle.
I am tired of feeling like – and being – a hypocrite. A traitor to myself and to what I believe. A traitor to my King. A traitor to the world, the broken world in need of change. In need of a miracle. The hours I waste. The stuff life is made of, like water through my fingers.
It is like the truth is there, in the center; quiet and constant and everlasting. The truth will not defend itself because it speaks for itself. The truth will not shout to drown out the cacophony of noisy lies because regardless of how loud the noise becomes, the truth will not flinch or shrink or decay or fall into ruin. We are the ones who choose to fill our minds with noise. To fill our souls with a false peace. To fill our hearts with empty love promises that go unfulfilled and cold embraces of statues that cannot come to life. With words that once meant something and now crumble like ancient scrolls no one ever reads anymore.
We drown out the screams. We have done so in the past and we do so now. The screams of people outside, and the screams of our own decaying selves. What have we become? What have we come to? Why do we not care about the fast fading light? Why do we not see the midnight hour? Why do we not protest the slow, torturous death we are witnessing? Are we asleep? Have we given up?
The fast fading light. A glowing ember in the dark. Who has breath to blow it back into existence, that fire we can create? Immensely gifted, wasting hours, hours, with a dying ember in the dark and breath to ignite the fiercesome flames. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.
So, you may or may not recall that my niece was born about two and a half years ago. I wrote her a poem, but never posted it. I am SUPER happy to say that her little brother, Aaronashe, was born on January 3rd, and he got a poem, too. I thought I would post them here, since I’m an excited auntie and seriously, for real, have the coolest family ever. (P.S. – I feel very privileged to have been able to be at both of their births, and that their awesome parents are so willing to allow us to share their lives).
Attempting Authenticity 