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.
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