I’m drowning in about 1300 years of church history.
The paper is due Sunday night and I haven’t written one word. I do have a bunch of notes though.
And in the middle of this paper my stomach cramps and my brain swirls.
Then there is life. Crazy life. Beautiful and messy (literally both milk and Cheerios on the floor).
And I see myself dropping my milk on the ground, spilling my cereal then looking to God. Is He going to bring the smack down? No, He is patient. He waits and He helps me clean the mess.
I see the scars from when I’ve gotten too close to the fire. Sometimes I wonder if anyone else can smell the smoke.
And I pray for a broken and contrite heart, but struggle finding the joy in the broken. I know there is joy because in the broken there is God. Redeeming and recreating the broken for His glory. I just don’t see it yet – not with my physical eyes.
So I trust God and thank Him for this broken day and remind myself of this:
We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. 2 Corinthians 4:8-10
Dying to live, breaking to be filled.
Beauty in the broken.
How can I pray for you friends? Leave a comment or send me an e-mail.