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.

A Locked Garden

I quieten my heart. I listen. To the sound the silence makes when you are truly listening; to the thoughts in my own soul that so often get lost in the whirl of the days. To the Voice that speaks the loving truth. I guard the place where we meet. The deep place within me where only God and I walk together.

The secret place. The deep place. The place where quiet is a song and peace is the harmonizing tune. The living place. The place where the Gardener plants dreams like seeds and waters them with love and I water them with faith, and we watch them flourish, grow, and change. The fresh scent of spring and the promise that it brings wafts from the secret place; a change from the inside out, sustainable and true.

A garden enclosed, where my Maker and I alone may walk.

I quieten my heart. Out of the quiet comes songs, comes life, comes peace, comes refreshing. The Still Small Voice whispers peace into my soul. I worship Him. And together we walk.

Chasing My Tail

I seem to constantly go through the same cycle in my relationship with God. First He draws me in and I experience the kind of excitement and fire that anyone has when they first come to Christ. Then He brings things to the surface in my life that are dragging me down and pulling me away from Him, and He deals with them. This of course is rather unpleasant, and at this point I engage in evasive maneuvers and suppress everything “so He can’t get at them” and act like everything is fine. I start to even resent God for “causing me so much pain” (even though I’m the only one causing myself any pain, by hanging onto things that aren’t good or nourishing) and I have to force myself to read my Bible or pray. And then, because He’s God, He draws me back again. He makes me realize that He loves me and that I belong to Him, that His plans for me are not to harm me but to prosper me and give me hope and a future (Jeremiah 29:11).


Why is this? I wish I could say I’ve learned my lesson now and won’t break the cycle where God begins to refine me, but I can’t because I’ve thought that many times. Now, in the stage where God is drawing me to Him, I can say that I trust Him and will continue to trust Him even when I feel like He is painfully chipping away the hard edges, but I don’t know whether it will last. What I can say is that each time it seems to be just a little bit easier to stop trying to run away. Each time the stretch between running away and coming back gets shorter. So…that’s good, right? If there’s anything I’ve learned it’s that a) God is in control and He’s faithful, and b) this is not a sprint, it’s a marathon.


People always say that and you’re like, “Right. Right. But for me it will be a sprint. I’ve got this. I’m just that awesome.” But it’s a marathon no matter what you do. It’s a marathon because, quite simply, none of us could handle a sprint. And God knows that. It’s a life-long marathon, an exciting one, and trying to cram it all into a year or two is going to cause burn out and discouragement and bitterness and a whole slew of other problems. Then we blame God and say He expects too much of us, when actually we’ve taken all this excess stuff on ourselves.


So, I know where I’m sitting now that the cycle will continue. But I guess it’s encouraging that it’s getting shorter, and that the highs are getting higher. God is faithful, whether or not we are. And that’s kind of encouraging too.