Have you ever caught yourself in the middle of praying something only to realize that you are praying the scariest prayer of your life?
Yeah?
Well I've caught myself mid sentence of some pretty awful prayers lately. The one that scares me the most happened about an hour ago.
Inviting Jesus into the depths of the closet of my heart. Opening the "junk drawer" of my heart wide and saying "Here, Jesus, Come and dig around. Clean it out. Do what you will with the items you find."
This is where I panic.
Ummm..... did I leave it in the drawer... or is it shoved under the bed?
I really hope he doesn't find THAT THING in the closet... that would be painful.
Oops, I haven't dug through that drawer in a while... I'm kind of scared of what I might remember if I let him dig around.
Then I begin to try to rewind my prayer...
No, Jesus, You see, you don't want to go in that closet...it's kinda dusty... your allergies might act up... *cough*
Jesus, you don't have time to go through the drawer, I understand... there are other things we need to sort though... like what the heck am I supposed to be doing with the next five years of my life.... yeah, that's the important stuff.
PLEASE JESUS, It's too painful for me to let you go through that closet... the things I have shoved in there hurt too much... I know you don't want to inflict harm on me right!!!????
But it's too late...
With His tender hands and loving eyes He looks right at me, almost like He is looking deep in me, He holds up an item.
I cringe as the memory floods back to me.
Tears begin to flow.
Jesus, I can explain that...
Jesus, I don't want to let that memory go.
Jesus, please, it hurts too badly to remember.
Jesus, no.
He takes out a stamp
Across that item, He stamps the most beautiful thing.
Paid for.
He reaches back in the drawer and pulls out another item.
He writes.
Redeemed.
And another.
Freed.
Again.
Healed.
The next one.
Restored.
One by one.
He stamps His name across my filth.
Across my sin.
Across the things that have wounded me.
Across the things that I am ashamed of.
I created this one to soar.
All that hold me are paper chains. The lock is broken. The door is open. Jesus, teach me how to fly.
Yeah?
Well I've caught myself mid sentence of some pretty awful prayers lately. The one that scares me the most happened about an hour ago.
Inviting Jesus into the depths of the closet of my heart. Opening the "junk drawer" of my heart wide and saying "Here, Jesus, Come and dig around. Clean it out. Do what you will with the items you find."
This is where I panic.
Ummm..... did I leave it in the drawer... or is it shoved under the bed?
I really hope he doesn't find THAT THING in the closet... that would be painful.
Oops, I haven't dug through that drawer in a while... I'm kind of scared of what I might remember if I let him dig around.
Then I begin to try to rewind my prayer...
No, Jesus, You see, you don't want to go in that closet...it's kinda dusty... your allergies might act up... *cough*
Jesus, you don't have time to go through the drawer, I understand... there are other things we need to sort though... like what the heck am I supposed to be doing with the next five years of my life.... yeah, that's the important stuff.
PLEASE JESUS, It's too painful for me to let you go through that closet... the things I have shoved in there hurt too much... I know you don't want to inflict harm on me right!!!????
But it's too late...
With His tender hands and loving eyes He looks right at me, almost like He is looking deep in me, He holds up an item.
I cringe as the memory floods back to me.
Tears begin to flow.
Jesus, I can explain that...
Jesus, I don't want to let that memory go.
Jesus, please, it hurts too badly to remember.
Jesus, no.
He takes out a stamp
Across that item, He stamps the most beautiful thing.
Paid for.
He reaches back in the drawer and pulls out another item.
He writes.
Redeemed.
And another.
Freed.
Again.
Healed.
The next one.
Restored.
One by one.
He stamps His name across my filth.
Across my sin.
Across the things that have wounded me.
Across the things that I am ashamed of.
I created this one to soar.
All that hold me are paper chains. The lock is broken. The door is open. Jesus, teach me how to fly.
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