There are these moments that stand still. Eternal instants some call them. In these moments I am without flesh, resting in my spirit. Floating in this temple God chose for me. I can't help but wander, look across the room to the others drinking their coffee and whisper, "I want to stay here."
In my spirit home. forever.
It's a breath that lasts a little longer. A feeling when I'm living as eternally as I can in this temporary place. It's the view from the canyon's edge.
2015 hurt so hard. It was 2,190 days all wrapped into one foggy resurrected season. The final plow.
Here I am standing hours away from it. Steps in front of it and it feels so good.
Not the good good though. The real good, the this is real good. The kind that has taken years to uproot.
These six years have been really hard for me and really good for me too. I faced things, so many things. Things that smother you, empty you, things that knock you down. & I gained. I gained things that are not things at all. All by way of answered prayer.
I learned how to love through to the other side of death. To show grace to those that held secrets from me. To love through others depression, drug addictions, and struggles to live.
I failed. I failed a lot. At being a daughter. At being a wife. At being. At yielding.
The beauty in the valley though is I never forget. I remind myself often, what life is like standing at the canyon's edge.
"Standing on the edge of the canyon draws all of life into perspective. What matters and what doesn't are easily distinguished."
It is there were we are our nearest to God, because it is there at the edge of death where He reigns.
"Only the God of the bible has dared to stand on the canyon's edge and offer an answer. He has to be God in the face of death. If not, he is not God anywhere."
"I am the resurrection and the life."
You felt it when you died to your sins. You feel it when those you love to share life with leave for eternity. Some of us practice it daily and we manage to conquer it with the light. Others of us forget, becuase we've never felt a spiritual death. & some who have are so scared into it, they forget to return.
Life at the canyon's edge makes it possible for me to forget. & I am so thankful. So thankful I've lost so much so I can bless others with what I've gained.
Thankful for a promise that has on this day delivered me from Egypt, from wandering the wilderness and has yielded more promises than Canaan ever could.
I asked God for 2,190 days to uproot everything in my life that was planted for me, before me. Every root that I tended to when I had no earthly idea how to prepare for the harvest. How to gather promise and truth. How to sew a field yielded for the earth when I long for the heavens.
The day has come where I stand rootless in a new year. On top of every root that built me and pulled me down. It is a beautiful, grace filled place. It is a promising whisper in the wind.
"This is not yours my child, this is the harvest of the one who has called you to gather for the kingdom. You will not sow what is to come or choose what is to grow. You will tend with faith, gather with courage and yield the harvest of the King."
& so I gather for 2016. I gather all that has been promised before me.