I Want So Much More of Him
We sit around the room. Smiles on our faces.
Maybe to hide the nerves.
We don’t know each other. Not everyone.
And yet here we are.
We are moms. Daughters. Wives. Friends. Sisters.
And we are lovers of Jesus.
Girls who cannot live a single day without Him.
So we are here.
Trusting Him who brought us together.
Trusting that this place is safe.
Believing that we can grow closer to the King.
We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t want more of Him.
And me. I want so much more of Him I can hardly stand it.
This group of new friends is working through Stuck by Jennie Allen.
Tonight we talked about anger.
Who, me? Anger? No. Not me.
And yet the truth is YES, IT’S ME. I KNOW IT’S ME. AND I HATE THIS PART OF ME.
If anyone saw it they would quickly judge. They would know my heart.
They would see my hurt. My faults. My disgusting sin.
It's so disgusting.
Some days I seem to handle it.
A little stink eye here. A little disobedience there.
Some jumping on the furniture here. And painting on the walls there.
And I hold it in. I have a heart talk.
I smile sweetly. And I clean up the paint (or I leave it there).
I take a deep breath and whisper Jesus’ name.
And He comes in an instant.
He shows me how to choose joy over frustration.
Oh, the joy. How often do I choose to forget the joy?
LORD, THANK YOU! Thank you, Jesus, for six feet that walk along these floors.
Thank you for the 30 fingers that leave smudges anywhere they can reach.
God, thank you.
Then there are the not-as-great days.
The days it is not held in.
The days my joy is hiding and I cannot find it.
The days when all hope seems lost.
And when I am doing a horrible job.
And no one seems to hear my voice. Or even care that I am here.
Ugh. This. Is. Hard.
And my life. It is a dream. And yet it is still so dang hard.
These are the days I don’t whisper His name.
These days I simply wave my arms around while raising my voice.
Begging my babies to stop whining. To start obeying.
I am desperate. I can’t see straight.
What have I done wrong? I can feel the tension rising inside of me.
And if I don’t flee, then I will do something I will regret.
So I hide for a minute.
And I hit my knees.
And I cry out.
“Lord, please HELP ME! I cannot do this on my own. I cannot. I am weak. YOU are strong. Where are you? What am I doing wrong? Please HELP ME LORD. I need you.”
And He comes. He always does.
And in my desperation He tells me that this life. That seems so dull. So pointless.
It’s for His glory.
Lord, take it.
Please. For your sake.
Take me. Take my life. Use me.
And He is.
In my brokenness. In my anger. In my sadness. In my fear.
When I run to Him. When I tell Him I am nothing without Him.
He is placed on His rightful throne.
Where He belongs.
When I get up from my knees.
The same things are happening on the other side of the door.
But something inside me has changed.
In an instant I can be made new.
When I surrender myself to the God of the Universe.
Praise Jesus for making me new.
Lord, thank you for delivering me when all else fails.
God, you are good.
And this is what I share with a group of women I barely know.
Because I am there to grow.
And letting others know my struggles makes those struggles lose their grip on me.
It’s embarrassing. But it’s also where I find freedom.
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