Acedia: "re-awaken my soul by the grace of Your love"

I'm numb. Acedia is eating me alive. I allow the hot flow of water to fall across my body.  Prayer candles are lit begging for answers, I swaddle myself in a cocoon of blankets...but still the tears won't come.  Acedia is eating me alive.

I feel nothing, no pain, no joy, just indifferent.  I feel uncomfortable and out of place in my own skin. Me the girl who cares about every single freaking little thing, who has an opinion or a feeling towards every idea under the sun, doesn't care.

My soul feels dead, white, empty. My wounds seem to grow more and more vast each moment of my life. How is there a balm to heal all this pain? How is there a love so faithful to dispel all this fear?

I attempt to climb out of my pit, I would rather feel pain than nothing, but I only slide back down, down further than I was before.

Silently You request me to lie still.  You lead me to quiet waters, and make me rest. With Your eyes you tell me to stop trying, and to lay there in all of my brokenness and wounds, just lay there. My eyes plead at You to rescue me, to not leave me here, my fears are raging full force and my voice seems to be broken, my eyes are all I have.  Rescue me.

Quietly you lay down beside me. We stare at the stars and the vastness of all that You've made. "let me tell you, little one, the story of how I made the earth and everything in it, just listen and stare".

And so I listen, I listen like a child, with all the wonder of the story, all the silly things that were made, and all the seriousness of humanity. You will be faithful to me, in this moment I am sure of that. 

"Re-awaken my soul by the grace of Your love".

Soul Excavation

Slow mornings are my favorite.  And even better are the ones where you wake up to find the dishes washed.  The shower seemed warmer, my coffee tastes better, my soul is quiet and still. Rest. 

Brokenness.  I feel completely undone, unwound, like my skin has been cut open and my insides are hanging out for all to see. This season I'm in, this season of soul excavation is thoroughly uncomfortable.  Uncomfortable but necessary.  Worst! But somehow, somehow in the chaos and the dust of this excavation my bones are being breathed back to life in a newer deeper way. And I know, deep down somewhere, I know this is good and what He is doing is good.

You sift me gently.
Tossing me and my life back and forth, back and forth
emerging the truer pieces of my soul.

Fears, unanswered questions, pride, vain, self-seeking
all roar their voices in full force.

I seek to bury them in an attempt to silence them.
You still me and tell me to wait as you separate the gold from the dross.

My soul says hide, you whisper be found.
My soul says lie and believe lies, you respond: the truth sets you free.
My soul says run away, you say stay.

You're excavating my soul and I'm terrified by what You'll find.

Excavation.

Expired flowers in a beautiful vase

I love fresh cut flowers. Especially when they are in my beautiful Kinantu vase on a clean table.  Sometimes I feel like this completely contradicts everything about me, in the sense that generally I like living things better than dead things.  But I love fresh cut flowers.

The flowers on my table are not fresh cut...they are probably about three weeks old, they're dying, if not completely dead.  I didn't take care of them, I don't think I even changed the water once.  And yet, yesterday morning I noticed that among the dead flowers, that desperately need to be thrown out, there was one little bud just starting to open. How? I've done nothing, everything around it is dead, the water hasn't been changed, there might not even be water in the vase for all I know.  And yet life is springing forth, delighting me. In fact it almost delights me more because it seems like a miracle, and I sit in awe.

Sometimes my life feels like expired flowers in a beautiful vase. Sometimes I don't take care of my soul, I neglect to bring it to the living water, and yet still I find that God is working, working miracles where I don't see or expect, and I sit in awe at what God is doing and what He can do. This morning I'm struck by his faithful, steadfast miracle work, even when I am neglectful. God, help me to be thankful...

Conversion

The leaves are falling off the trees. I like it.  It's time.  Sometimes in the midst of the summer fling I forget how much I love the quiet, unhurried routine of fall. It slows me down so I can breathe, so I can process. 

I like to sit on my deck and drink coffee and stare. My wonderful, ugly yellow MCC chair is positioned carefully in front of a beautiful maple.  I've watched it through a full year of season now.  Slowly its leaves are changing colour and falling quietly to the ground.  I can't help but feel the correlation to my own life.  Fall is about letting go, purging life, slowing down, getting ready for the long winter so that when spring comes the new growth can come. 

I'm reflecting through my life, as if carefully examining each leaf, barely having the courage to allow it to change colour, let alone allow it to fall to the ground and decay into the earth.  He's changing me, changing the patterns of my life, changing the movement of my soul.  Fear calls me to cling to my leaves and not allow them to fall, but Christ calls me to let them go, to let them fall to the earth and nourish my soul.  To make room for the new growth that will come...eventually. So silently, in the deep corners of my soul, with tears moving down my cheeks I open my clenched fists and say yes...conversion.

Silently you move me
You shift my soul to its proper place in one swift move...
like a mother with her child.

Plagued by fears without and evils within
firmly and quietly i hear you among the reeds
and eventually I see and feel your large strong hand...
i don't feel so confused any more.

Lord, help me to receive
to receive the gifts I don't understand, the unfinished paintings
let me receive them with joy and not disdain.

Let me carefully unwrap each moment
let me savour it the way you invite me to.

Teach me, oh Holy God, how to live in your unhurried sense of time.
Grant me grace as I explore you and others deeper...

conversion.

Lord, help me to receive

 I don't remember the last time I woke up to that sound, that smell.  You know, the one that makes everything feel fresh, and clean, as if the whole world is being made new. You know, rain. I don't remember the last time it rained.

This week my soul rained too. I cried my eyes out.  Not just a few tears, but the full deal.  The kind of crying that makes your eyes puffy...even the next day! It's been a long time since I've had a cry like that.  I'm thinking maybe the beginning of April. 

I don't like crying, it feels uncomfortable and messy.  People look at you with pity, with concern speculating at the cause. Its just plain awkward. But God has been teaching me about my attitude/spirit of rejection these past seven months, trying to call me out of it and into a attitude/spirit of receiving....it pretty much kills me.  My pride has to die, my rights have to die, my will has to die, my "just" bitterness and hurt has to die. But I'm starting to see when I fight less and receive more, I gain freedom, life, peace, and stillness.

I'm starting to realize that I've been fighting the rainy season of my life. Because sometimes, actually probably most of the time, life is seasonal, only we suck at realizing it and embracing it.

And so this morning I feel encouraged by the rain, in a quie,t still kind of way....I can feel the growth steeping in my soul, the change that is coming, the new life that is about to be birthed, the new ways of seeing and living, just like the trees that somehow appear greener with more buds, even after one rain. 

Lord, help me to receive...