Private conversations

I debated about posting this piece.  You’ll understand why, I think, when you read it.  At first glance, it’s a post about me.  But I think essentially, it’s about how big, faithful, patient and tenacious God is in His love for us.

Quiet and still, a furry white frost blankets the world.  Drawn in by the beauty, mesmerized by the hush, I wait.  Here, in my chair by the window, I wait to hear and be heard.  I wait to see and be seen.  In awe of an infinite God who cares, I come, morning by morning–day by day–to seek Him and see Him.  Usually, I’m driving down the highway while we talk, but today, I have the luxury of a comfy armchair and hot coffee. Opinions, politics, religion, wars, duties, obligations, finances, grief, relationships all whirling around me in a flurry of confusion and I stand in the middle, close my eyes and He calms my heart.  He whispers love and peace to me.  Then, in our private tete-a-tete, He shares His heart for who’s hurting and who needs His love and who needs to know about Him today.  And I listen and respond.

For a few minutes.

Then my feeble mind wanders and the focus shifts from Him and His purposes to me.

My “less” of me becomes “more more more” in 3 seconds flat.

Running with a tangent in my mind, I clamor and claw and all of a sudden want the world to see me. I think I need to shout my silly “achievements” (of which, in truth, there are none) from the rooftop, I want to be heard-seen-noticed by the world.  Valued.  In my intense and insane pride, I want recognition.  Bottom line: I want attention.  As if having the attention of the Creator of the Universe isn’t enough?  The battle between pride and humility wages and roars in my heart and mind.  Jesus whispers come to me and I, like a child sticking her fingers in her ears, sing a mad mad song of lalalalalalala I can’t hear you! Peace beckons and I run the other way.  Humility invites and I promptly reject the engagement.  Left to my own devices, my vanity runs amuck and threatens to undo the very heart of me.  Like a match to dry tinder, my pride flares up.

But God, in His kindness and relentless pursuit of my heart, won’t let me go.  He won’t leave me to my own devices but intervenes again and again and again with His fierce and mighty, yet ever-so-gentle, grace, pulling me back into precious communion with Himself.  Sheltering me with His protective presence, He draws me to Himself and once again, I remember who I am.

And the fire of me me me dies out.

And our conversation continues.

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