“I’ll tell these things to God, and He’ll laugh, I think and He’ll remind me of the parts I forgot, the parts that were His favorite. We’ll sit and remember my story together, and then He’ll stand and put his arms around me and say, “well done,” and that He liked my story. And my soul won’t be thirsty anymore. Finally He’ll turn and we’ll walk toward the city, a city He will have spoken into existence, a city built in a place where once there’d been nothing. ” ~Donald Miller
Thank You Father for speaking to me yesterday. I promise I didn’t miss it. I pray that, today, You’ll be as kind as to reveal Yourself through nature and song and silence. Thank You for the liberty to worship You right now, without worry or fear – that liberty can not be taken lightly. I know that liberty doesn’t exist everywhere. It’s not a right, it is indeed a privilege.
I woke up thinking about the beauty of one day seeing You face-to-face. No more sea dividing Heaven and Earth. It’s as if this life journey has been about swimming in that sea, traversing the pitfalls and the currents and the hidden dangers and the seen ones. But there will be a day – in a place that will feel like Eden, but perhaps even more perfect than perfect?
Pure, hand-crafted architecture. Pure, hand-crafted landscape. Dwelling with the Lord, our Lord, our God in unfiltered, unfettered glory.
I wonder if some of the tears will be of amazement, of awe. The way a starving soul cries when carried into a feast, or a deaf person cries when they hear for the first time. The way a woman cries when a child is born. Because the relief, the love is overwhelming.
Father, let me picture Your glory today. Oh let me have a taste in my heart of what it will be like to stand there, overwhelmed by the fact we are home. No rough seas of pain or prejudice to maneuver. No dark and treacherous waters of “me first” to navigate. No more hurt. No more suffering. No more “why does it have to be this way?” and “Where are You, God?” You’ll speak and it will be clear. No other voices to fight. You’ll smile, and I’ll see clearly. No clouds of doubt or fear.
I will cry. I truly believe I will cry. A lot. Oh, and to think You’ll wipe away those tears? You know that will just make me cry harder. To feel that touch and know You view me as complete and beautiful, to see You touch another face, and another. To know we are all safe, that we are all made whole.
I am crying now.
When you think about heaven, what do you see? I used to think it was a faraway place – until my mom died and I realized just how close it is, that it’s only a breath away. There are days I feel heaven bump up against me, and I ache to fall into it. Are you that way? I’d love to pray for you today – will you share what you need or want with me?
Last year, I shared the stories about pictures I’ve taken. This year during the month of October, I’m opening up my journal and sharing prayers. They’re not eloquent or poetic – they’re simple honest talks with God. Some prayers are joyful and some are screams. Some are said in the morning and some at night. It’s my hope the words might help someone else find the words.
4 thoughts on “No More. #write31days”
Beautiful! As I am traversing that sea today, this is a buoy where I am resting…thanks. I am overwhelmed today, with life, with choices & possibilities, so much to do, to be…just here bobbing and holding on to the strut of the buoy, staying afloat. Did I mention THANKS?
I’m praying for you today, that you’ll catch glimpses of the “no more…” in the midst of that bobbing and swaying. I pray your lungs will be filled with fresh air, and that you’ll find a bit of refreshing from the spray of the water on your face.