I Love You Too Much to Leave

You ask me for all but

Far more do you give

I need you too much to leave

 

What treasured surrender

In dying I live

I love you too much to leave

 

The path I have chosen:

The one that you trod

I need you too much to leave

 

For where could I venture

Apart from my God?

I love you too much to leave

 

How precious the burden

Of sharing your pain

I need you too much to leave

 

I’d rather have Jesus

Than have my own way

I love you too much to leave

 

Convinced of you fully

No man could me sway

I need you too much to leave

 

There find me beside you

With dawn of each day

I love you too much to leave

 

SDJ July 21, 2019

* * *

⁶⁶ And so from that time on many of the disciples turned their backs on Jesus and refused to be associated with him. ⁶⁷ So Jesus said to his twelve, “And you—do you also want to leave?” ⁶⁸ Peter spoke up and said, “But Lord, where would we go? No one but you gives us the revelation of eternal life. ⁶⁹ We’re fully convinced that you are the Anointed One, the Son of the Living God, and we believe in you!”

John 6:66-69 TPT

Further reading: Chapter 18 “A Share in Christ’s Sufferings” in The Path of Loneliness by Elisabeth Elliot.

Make Me a Cake

Make me a cake with your loneliness

Pour in the oil of your suffering

Use all that’s left of your nothingness

Knead in the measure of mourning

 

Make me a cake with your barrenness

Stir in the sorrow and shame

Empty the breadth of your brokenness

Unanswered questions and pain

 

Lay it in flames of surrender

Cool it with tears and with trust

Serve it to me at my altar

And gather the gold from the dust

 

Offer what’s left in your keeping

Though it may be small or be spurned

What’s costly to sow is worth reaping

Jarfuls of joy in return

 

What little or much we have—even our pain—is best left in the hands of God. Only He can make something of our nothing. // In reference to the story found in 1 Kings 17 when the widow of Zarephath gave her very last meal to the prophet. // “Make Me a Cake” written 6/26/19, inspired by Elisabeth Elliot’s book The Path of Loneliness, chapter 16.

Usurper

I hereby dethrone myself

from the province of my heart,

handing over rule and reign

of each corner, every part.

 

I step down from pedestals

and herald You as King.

Relinquishing control, I choose

to surrender everything.

 

Wise is the one who becomes a fool

in the eyes of prideful man,

and gives his crown to rightful Heir,

laying scepter in His hand.

 

Foolish the one who claims his right

as rights become his wrong,

for kingdom rule and kingdom reign

alone to God belong.

 

Inspired by The Knowledge of the Holy by A.W. Tozer, chapter 5 “The Self-existence of God.”

 

“Man is a created being, a derived and contingent self, who of himself possesses nothing but is dependent each moment for his existence upon the One who created him after His own likeness. The fact of God is necessary to the fact of man. Think God away and man has no ground of existence.”

“Man for all his genius is but an echo of the original Voice, a reflection of the uncreated Light. As a sunbeam perishes when cut off from the sun, so man apart from God would pass back into the void of nothingness from which he first leaped at the creative call.”

“Sin has many manifestations but its essence is one. A moral being, created to worship before the throne of God, sits on the throne of his own selfhood and from that elevated position declares, “I AM.”

“…to set our will against the will of God is to dethrone God and make ourselves supreme in the little kingdom of Mansoul.”

Mid-life(ish), unMarried, and Making the Most of it: Lessons I’ve Learned Being Single

Since writing that first blog three years ago on being single, I’ve gone deep into the heart of finding wholeness, courage, and healing in the areas of loneliness and the unfulfilled desire for a husband. I’ve shed enough tears to fill all the mason jars on Pinterest. I’ve snotted into my pillow, woken up with blowfish eyes, journaled like a castaway, and gone to the batting cages just to hit something that wouldn’t hit back. But through it all, I’ve experienced breakthrough upon breakthrough from a faithful God (and the unrelenting support from award-winning friends). While our journeys are our own, this blog is my attempt to tell you you’re not alone. If there’s hope and healing for messy old me, there’s hope and healing for you. God WILL redeem every area you give Him access to.

Here are the most valuable lessons I have come to learn having lived single for the good majority of my 34ish years. Through much fire, they have become like priceless gold, and yet I am aware that there is still much more to refine in me. Single or not, male or female, I pray you’re inspired toward wholeness, truth, and trust.

1. Life doesn’t finally begin when I get married.

For years I believed that my life calling, God’s plan for me, would only be launched after I met my husband. I sat by and twiddled my thumbs waiting for the day when I would really and finally be used in full by God for His purposes. That twiddling lasted over a decade, people. Talk about sore thumbs. I was still seeking God, growing, and even serving Him and others. But it was a casual and complacent pursuit. Thank God for ripping me out of that rut and lifting me out from under the stifling and common misconception that, “Once I get married, THEN I will…” Life is here and now, ladies and gentlemen. Your destiny is here and now. Stop idly waiting by, imagining the day when you’ll finally be primed for His purposes.

2. Loneliness, insecurities, and coping mechanisms won’t miraculously disappear once a ring is on my finger.

There’s an age-old, fairy tale idea that continues to deceive us all: meet the man or woman of your dreams and ride off into that orange glow to a place called Happily Ever After. All pain, brokenness, and brittle areas miraculously heal the moment you say, “I do.” That is truly a beautiful picture…painted by a clueless fool with his head in the silvery clouds. Ask any married person if all their problems went away at the altar, or if instead, their broken areas got magnified once they were in an intimate and vulnerable relationship. Ask them if they’ve ever felt lonely even though their spouse lay right next to them. Lace up your boots, single comrades, and treat this time of solitude as an opportunity to let God illuminate and heal your insecurities, pride, fears from hurts, walls from abuse, and your need for those nasty coping mechanisms (e.g., shutting down, depression, anger, sexual sin, on and on). It’s dirty work, like surgery on a battlefield. It’s painful and gut-wrenching to choose to trust Him and walk that road of wholeness, but it will undoubtedly save you a lot of heartache later on. Ditch the baggage now for the sake of yourself and your future spouse and children, but most importantly ditch the baggage simply to deepen that rich intimacy with God.

3. Jealousy, bitterness, and rejection are sure signs that my worth is wrapped up in the wrong things or people.

I could write a novel on this one. I’ll title it FrankenShelley: Nightmare of a Friend. The Goliath in my life boldly walked on scene this past year. At the cue of a best friend’s relationship and engagement, I began to feel things, say things, and think things on par with a schizophrenic lunatic. I was overcome with jealousy. “Why does she get what I’ve waited so long for?” I was bitter, sharp-tongued, and most definitely not the friend I desperately wanted to be. I found it difficult to celebrate her joys. Funny thing, I had come face to face with that exact same giant over a decade ago with another engaged best friend. Talk about a bridesmaid from hell. (I have some hilarious and cringeworthy stories.) Foolishly, I refused to lop its head off then. I simply sang that sinful giant to sleep, and it lay dormant for ten solid years, waking up stronger than ever one year ago. It took me being utterly fed up with how I was acting last year to do something about it. I was determined to not take this warped flaw any further into my future. I would fight it once and for all. Well, that “once and for all” took about 9 months of praying, intensely seeking God, speaking His Word over myself, confronting the lies, asking forgiveness time and time again from a most merciful friend, and fasting like a holy madwoman. And thank you, Jesus, Goliath’s head rolled in January! Through those character-refining months, God clearly revealed that my reactions of jealousy and bitterness were just the fruit of me being rooted in ill-founded worth. My worth was in the idea of being loved by a man. My worth was in the concept of marriage. My worth was in something I didn’t yet have. So without those things in my life, I was, by my own definition, worthless. Perfect transition to number 4…

4. Finding my worth in any man, woman, position, title, status, or thing other than God alone is the most fragile foundation I could ever build upon.

I have lived long enough and face-planted into the mud a handful of times to learn this most valuable life lesson. Nothing–no person or thing–is strong enough to be your source of worth, your foundation upon which you build your life. People and the love they give us should be wonderful reminders OF our value. They shouldn’t BE our value. Seek your identity in the way someone treats you, or the things they say or don’t say about you, or the job/ministry title you have, or the number of followers you have on social media, and you’ll be seeking forever. You will never be fulfilled in worth until you meet Worth Himself and have Him repeatedly speak it over you until you actually believe Him. Worthy is the Lamb. We are worthy by sheer fact and faith that He is and He loves. For more on this topic, read this blog from a few years back.

5. Co-dependent friendships are subtly alluring and a dangerous substitute.

Did I mention I was a pro at face-planting? I’m surprised I don’t have a flat forehead from this lesson learned.

I’m not talking about healthy, balanced friendships here. Those are a gift to us along the journey. But treat any gift with even the slightest obsession, and it quickly turns idolatrous, clingy, and sour. Since going through this murky mess a few years back, I’ve become keenly aware anytime I start being co-dependent or idolatrous toward a friend. And in the same way, I’ve recognized that exact tendency in a number of single people around me, especially women in my opinion. It’s subtle and requires a heart check, ladies. We blanket our girl (and even guy) friendships with God, but often leave Him out of the true center. Out of loneliness, we use our friends to fill that void instead of seeking deep companionship in Jesus. It may look like a Godly, selfless, friendship, but I challenge you to have the Holy Spirit check your heart. How much physical and emotional affection are you giving to and craving from them? Are you using them to soothe the ache? Do you hold them with a tight grip? Do you get jealous over their relationships? Always remember that every friendship and relationship should be humbly held with an open hand, a gift given by God. We were never designed to worship the Creator’s creation.

6. Settling may be a quick “fix” and an easier route, but it is actually a most unfulfilling and broken route.

Waiting is hard. Waiting well is even harder. When we give up hope on a fulfilled dream and settle for making that promise come to pass in our own way, we invite heartbreak through our door and sabotage the timely and purposeful work of God in our lives. We go back to dating people that treat us with little or no respect. We give our bodies over like cheap candy. We say, “Just this once.” We convince ourselves that our sin isn’t wrong. “It’s not that bad. At least I’m not doing this or doing that.” Take heed. The moment you start making excuses for your actions or for people never meant to be in your life is the moment you warmly welcome compromise into your home. And compromise is a sly little devil that coaxes you further and further into darkness without you realizing it. Stand strong, live in the light, know your worth, keep your standards high, respect others as well as yourself, believe in the good promises of a good Father, stay accountable, resist temptation, and stay the course! You will reap a harvest in due season.

7. Beware the lure of idolizing the idea of marriage.

There is a danger in living unsatisfied. Like Eve, we all fall prey to the lie that we are missing out. “If only I were married, then I would be fulfilled.” “If only I had more money, then I would be satisfied.” “If only I could have a baby, then our marriage would be complete.” If it’s not one thing, it’s another. Dissatisfaction is no devil when it leads you to the foot of the cross and forces you to cling to Satisfaction Himself. But intensely focus on that “one thing” that will supposedly “make it all better in life,” and you’ll find that dissatisfaction has quickly shape-shifted into your idol.

8. Learn now the art of swallowing pride, staying teachable, and giving of myself.

Take yourself to the nearest bakery and order a heaping helping of Humble Pie a la mode. Marriage (or any relationship) is not an opportunity to lord over each other. Jesus calls us to unity, to oneness, to service, to love. Do we get it perfect every time? One glance at my life and you’ll get your answer: nah bro. But there are few things more beautiful than a soft and teachable heart, someone eager to change and grow, someone who seeks to put others first, not out of obligation or self-righteousness but simply out of a heart that loves God. We love because He first loved us. Train yourself in the love-driven art of sacrificially giving of your time, your will, your desires, your service, and your finances. Practice eating that pie now. It’ll taste better with each bite. (The other alternative is someone shoving it down your throat later in life. And no one likes whipped cream in their eye.)

9. Practice vulnerable communication and conflict resolution.

I’ve always heard that a lack of communication kills marriages. People don’t know how to talk it out, express themselves, not blame shift, not argue in a fit of rage, not back down from their defenses, not storm out or shut down. They don’t seek resolution or remain vulnerable when it’s painful. I didn’t grow up with a family that had “family meetings.” We didn’t chit-chat about the state of affairs going on in our hearts. I was not well-versed in expressing my feelings. “Cat got your tongue, Shelley?” “Why, yes. Yes it does.” I was awful at opening up. But through time, determination, and being part of a secondary family that is SO keen on communication, I have learned to love and appreciate it. While I may not see eye-to-eye with someone, we resolve it until there is no bitterness remaining, no rock unturned, no hurt or fear or misunderstanding unspoken. Pull those cat paws off your tongue and routinely practice communication and resolution. You’ll find your relationships will be deeper, more personal, richer, and more wholehearted (let alone cat free, thank God).

10. Don’t build a doctrine out of dashed hopes.

It’s okay to feel the ache of a desire unfulfilled but not okay to hunker down and make camp in hopelessness. Hold onto your hope, hang tight to your promise. Cling steadfastly to a Father that loves you relentlessly and unconditionally. Let’s face it, if there is air in your lungs you will be bruised in life, maybe even crushed under the weight of disappointment. You lost someone you love. That father or teacher or friend you trusted mishandled you. You were ridiculed and demeaned, abused and neglected. You waited ages to see a dream come to pass, and it appears to be a rotting seed in the ground, a mockery. Tragedy struck and you’ve never been the same. We shake our fists at God, at our parents, at this world, and vow to never be hurt again. One hope dashed and we give up hope altogether. Do I dare invite you to hope again? With everything in me, YES. Hope takes courage. Hope says, “I refuse to let this world harden me. I choose to be open, loving, trusting, and trustworthy.” She generously reminds you of the goodness of God. Why would we suffocate her when she’s the only one that can usher us back into joy and wholehearted living?

11. Loneliness is a gift.

Any painful or broken area of your life is a gift in disguise, my friends. You have two options. You can react to your loneliness (or any other hurt, for that matter) with depression, anger, settling, coping mechanisms, etc. or you can let the overwhelming weight of it drop you to your knees before Jesus. After years of struggling with crushing loneliness, I finally realized that it can always lead me to my God’s arms. I once turned to other people and things to cope but nothing satisfied. When I started to turn to Jesus in my loneliness, draw into His love, look Him in the eye, and expose my tearful heart, I encountered the most beautiful transformative power. Him alone. And that’s when my perspective shifted drastically. Anything in this world that draws me closer to Him, my first love, is a gift no matter how serrating it may be. He, of all people, knows what the deepest of all pain feels like. He not only sympathizes with me but freely offers Himself as Healer. There is no greater gift than Jesus Himself. Find gratitude in the things that draw you to Him.

12. God is not withholding and playing a cruel joke on me.

This was the lie of all lies that was unearthed in my heart last year. God was cruel and He was withholding from me. I could believe all day that He was good to others, but to me personally, He came up short. I mean, He knew the deepest desire of my heart was to be married, a desire I’ve had for well over a decade now. He knew I would lose my parents and have to grieve that process without a spouse to comfort me. He knew all my friends would get married around me and I’d be left wide-eyed and heartbroken. He knew and yet He withheld. Or so I believed. At the end of 2016, I broke in half like an oil tanker and sunk into a sea of anger and bitterness. I kicked and screamed at God like a selfish child in a feeble attempt to punish Him beyond the most punishable cross. I had believed a lie about God for so long and desperately needed truth. I went on a 21-day fast and pleaded for God to set me free in my thinking, to give me eternal perspective, to open my eyes to His goodness. And He did. He always does. Our God stands outside of time, far beyond its limitations. And we run around in its constraints, tapping our watches, and demanding God fill our need. And when the secondhand laps back around, we stomp our feet and curse Him. Do we not realize He is sovereign? Do we so easily forget that eternity rests in the palm of His hand? Are we so vain to imagine that our ways, our wants, our plans for our own lives even hold a candle to His brilliance? Every good and perfect gift has already been handed to me from the Father in the form of His Son. Can I not trust that He will rightly guide my life according to His plan? Can I not trust that “perfect timing” is Perfection’s specialty? The pressure is off. For the first time in my life I’m untethered, free to fly in the simple trust that He’s got me.

 

Well folks, my hands are cramping but my heart is full. If you made it this far, you deserve an award. I’d love to hear your feedback: areas where you can relate, where you’ve personally grown, or where you still need encouragement. Feel free to share this with anyone that may benefit. I trust my journey may be of some comfort and strength to others out there. Remember, you’re NOT alone. (And if you know a single, sold-out Christian guy, just jot his name in the comment section, too. jkjkjkjkjkjk. I mean… jk.)

The Letter I Never Wrote My Dad

Daddio, Daddy Jones, Trusty,

Oh how time flies when you’re within its constraints. Six and a half years have passed since I last hugged you, bopped your head, or asked you to stand by your bed so I could ram my shoulder into your stomach and “sack the quarterback”. Seven Father’s Days have come and gone without being able to give you a Far Side desk calendar or a nose trimmer or a cartoon tie or some other “useful” gift you so graciously accepted. So much time has come and gone.

Sometimes I still can’t believe you’re no longer here. Someone that was so faithful to always be there isn’t easy to part with.

You were always there, dad. Every track meet and road race you were at the sideline cheering me on with honey sticks in hand for energy and Aspercreme in your back pocket to rub down my chicken-legs after I crossed the finish line. Every basketball game you were in the stands videoing such important middle school footage and ever-so-kindly putting mistaken refs in their place. Every REI garage sale you were first in line and coming home with hoards of things you thought I might like. (I still have quite the stash today, dad. Those random gifts still come in handy.) If I ever vaguely mentioned I was interested in some hobby or that a friend of mine liked cycling or snowshoeing or collecting gum wrappers, there you were with gifts in hand, freely giving from the “Daddy Garts” sports store conveniently located in your garage.

You always put others first. Always. You would make sure our fishing poles were always set up on those all-night trips to the pier. (I’m fairly certain your line never even got in the water because you were always too busy helping me with snags or teaching me how to put the shrimp on the hook.) You shelved your love of surfing and gladly opted to wade in the water beside me as you pushed me into the wave, knowing full well that my scrawny arms could never paddle into that 6-inch swell. You would be up at the crack of dawn making the princess (me) her must-have snowboarding trip breakfast (pancakes). You would always make sure us kids made it to church every Sunday, something I will ever be grateful for. You would commute three hours roundtrip to work every day, come home, and make us dinner with a smile on your face, even if that dinner was your tuna/mac/pea combo thing. You were selfless, dad, utterly selfless, utterly reliable, and utterly trustworthy.

I don’t remember exactly when Trusty came into my life, maybe at age four or five. You were always there with the most dependable horseback rides, so my little brain opted to forever nickname you Trusty. Every night before bed, mom and I would call you from the stables. You’d clip clop over to me and pull me up into the imaginary saddle on your back. I’d fling my arms around your neck and you’d whisk me off to bed. You’d clip clop down the cobblestones in our living room, splash through the stream in our hallway, and slurp up a drink of water before squishing through the muddy terrain just shy of my room. Without fail, you’d get distracted by some apple tree and eat one along the way before dropping me off at my twin-bed destination for a good night’s sleep. You signed my birthday cards with hoof prints and ponds and fences to leap over. You left sticky notes on the mirror with horseshoes as a signature. If you ever acted out, I made sure to put you in your place by telling you I would send you to the glue factory if you didn’t shape up! I’ve never heard anyone impersonate a panic-stricken horse’s neigh like you!

For years you carried me. You were Trusty and even now it makes more sense as to why.

As I think back to a private conversation you and I had in your nursing facility just weeks before you left, I distinctly remember the remorse in your eyes. You choked out the words and drenched them in tears. You told me how bad it hurt to think you wouldn’t see me grow old, that you would never have the opportunity to walk me down the aisle. You cradled an imaginary child in your arms and cried at the thought of never being able to hold my babies. One thing was certain to me on that day, the pain of abandoning your little girl in life was more excruciating than the pain of the cancer eating at your body. You had put your all into being there for me. You were my Trusty, that faithful old horse. When you died, who would make sure I was okay?

Dad, I love you. I may have lost you for a little while, but rest assured, for this time while I no longer have you or mom here on earth, I am not at a loss. I am not lost. I am okay. It is unfathomable just how faithful God has been to take care of me.

A few months ago, I couldn’t sleep. My heart was aching for more of God, my Father, in my life. One thing I have learned through the pain of losing both parents is if I have more of Him, all else will be okay. All else will be okay. That night, in that moment of desperation, I reached my arms up in the air, crying as I laid in my bed as if to grab hold of the Dad I needed. I was craving to know my Father more. With a tinge of frustration, I said, “Show me more of you, God.” Suddenly and gently, an image of you popped into my head.

I was stunned and a bit puzzled. A few seconds passed and the lightbulb switched on. God whispered to me about you, about Trusty of all things. He chose to use you as an example of His love. Over six years have passed and I’m just now seeing how well you pointed me to the Father by your lifestyle.

You were so trustworthy, and yet it was just a shadow of the most Trustworthy One.

You took such joy and pride in every interest of my heart, and yet that was just a mere glimpse into the fondness He has for me.

You thoroughly delighted in giving good gifts to me, and yet that was a simple taste of His delight in meeting my every need.

I know the Father more because of you. I know Him! You couldn’t have given me a more thoughtful, everlasting gift if you tried. And God couldn’t have given me a more thoughtful gift in you, with every horseback ride, with every appearance at my sporting events, with every outing to the mountains. He knew what I needed in a father, and He knew you would be the best way to fulfill that need. Thank you, dad, thank you.

For years you carried me. You still do. You are Trusty.

Love,

Your F.O.

Part 2: He is here for the hurting and broken

After yesterday’s post, I decided to add part 2 for all those hurting and broken in their world right now. We’ve all been there. We’ve all felt the gritty sands blowing around us in the desert times. But we can also learn the peace of the Spirit of God in the middle of our sorrows. We can learn to emerge triumphant in the strength of Jesus.

Here is the documentary for Desert Song, another worshipful addition to Hillsong’s latest album, This is Our God. The song immediately follows the documentary in the following video.

He is here for the sick and the dying

It is an eternal theme and urging to worship in spirit and in truth. It is stirring in my heart, in the heart of our church and worship ministry, in our leaders, in our lives. Lift God, lift Jesus higher and higher. In all seasons, in all pain and hurt, and all triumph and prosperity, lift our Lord as he deserves the highest place.

Hillsong’s latest live album, This is Our God, was released recently and beats with heaven’s heart. Glorify God. Here is a documentary on the album as a whole as well as one specific song, Healer. Take 9 minutes out of your day to watch this.

 

And here is the song, Healer, sung by Mike & the Hillsong team.

the water pump is working again

I have a very obvious tell when it comes to intimacy with God. I’ve realized over the last couple years that as long as I’m seeking God, searching Him out, desiring more of Him, I’m singing. Not necessarily on stage…just singing here and there without even realizing it. It’s an unstoppable well when I’m spiritually lit, and it’s a sure sign that I’ve neglected my first Love when the songs cease, when the well dries up. It’s as if my spirit is communing with God subconsciously throughout the day. And as I do so, I find my spirit soaring. In these times (whether they are difficult times or not), God gives me new and personal worship songs to sing to Him. They may never be published, copyrighted or recorded. They may never be heard by more than the audience of One. They are solely His and I sing them for Him the moment they come to me.  

However, some of the other songs He gives me I believe He wants me to share. One day. They’ve been accumulating over the last two years and, with the fresh life God has given me, have resurfaced. We’ll see.

 

 

All I know is I am grateful for the life once again coursing through my body.

My spirit is free to sing to You!!!

oh happy day

Today I found a long-lost prized possession. I haven’t seen it for years, probably 5-6 years in fact. It represents many childhood memories, many emotional tear-filled moments, many friendships, many hours spent in front of the tube with the VCR while it cranked out my favorite movie of my younger years. What, you ask, is so special to my heart?! My “Beaches” soundtrack!!! I’m typing this blog with Bette serenading me in the background. Pure delight!

I know of at least one other person that shared this childhood passion (even to the point of cops being called out to her house because she was belting out Bette tunes too loudly. Ask her.) Yes, I thrived off of “Wind Beneath My Wings,” and maybe even “Baby Mine” or “The Glory of Love.” And more so, I always felt like I could relate to Bette’s character, CC Bloom. Oh the movie. Oh the memories. Any more Beaches fans out there?!?!

So what was your favorite movie as a child?

my favorite author and his song

If ever you feel unfulfilled or unsatisfied with what life appears to be, if ever you are searching for something past the superficial veils, beneath the surface of our skin, read C.S. Lewis. Even as an adult, every book in the Narnia series moves me to long for my Savior more, to have what Lucy had with Aslan or to know him in the many forms he takes, the many ways he reveals himself. Other books of his you must read: The Great Divorce and Mere Christianity. Yes, there are boatloads of books and short stories by this man, a man who seemed to know God in a unique way and who penned that relationship for us to consume years later. But these fit the point of the song below. Take time to read and mull over the lyrics of Brooke Fraser’s song. Like the Narnia series, and the 2 books mentioned above, it’ll have you craving something more than ourselves and our worlds. Our Maker, our Savior, and our Love.

Brooke Fraser’s ‘C.S. Lewis Song’

If I find in myself desires nothing in this world can satisfy,
I can only conclude that I was not made for here
If the flesh that I fight is at best only light and momentary,
then of course I’ll feel nude when to where I’m destined I’m compared

Speak to me in the light of the dawn
Mercy comes with the morning
I will sigh and with all creation groan as I wait for hope to come for me

Am I lost or just less found? On the straight or on the roundabout of the wrong way?
Is this a soul that stirs in me, is it breaking free, wanting to come alive?
‘Cause my comfort would prefer for me to be numb
And avoid the impending birth of who I was born to become

For we, we are not long here
Our time is but a breath, so we better breathe it
And I, I was made to live, I was made to love, I was made to know you
Hope is coming for me
Hope, He’s coming