Friday, May 23, 2014

Declaration

I wake up, stiff and achy, with some serious bedhead, to a morning filled with the sounds of children and breakfast and bickering.

My girl fixes me a cup of coffee with some fancy shmancy flavored creamer that I never use but that reminds me of my sweet Cara, and I sip and savor and start to wake up.

I feel zombie-esque.

I turn on praise and worship music, balm for the soul, and listen to the sounds of guitar and harmonizing voices, alto and tenor. Tiny clicking noises join in, my girl sorting and building with her Legos in the bed with me.

This is my worship, to invite my little ones into my bed with me, to love and hug and encourage, to look at them full in the face and smile.

I have no major plans for the day. I'd like to tidy my bedroom a bit, get some reading done, play a board game with my kids, maybe even squeeze in a nap. The only thing I really, really want to do today is hear Jesus.

Jesus.

He is my air, my breath, my heart. I need him like an addict needs another fix. Hearing Him speak is my high. He is my only ambition. He is my holy obsession.

I remember reading some place that God is the most glorified when we are the most satisfied in Him. This must be true, because when I see one of His children love Him intensely, when I see a life marked by joy and contentment, a face aflame with love and passion, it makes me want Him more.

I don't want to be a flame, a little light that shines and won't be put under the proverbial bushel. I want to be a raging fire that consumes, that burns hot.

I want to be the kind of Jesus-follower that spends time in His Presence, that sees His face; Moses-like, I want to come away from my time with Jesus and have my face be alight with His glory. And I want to be forced to wear a figurative veil, so that others will see Him and not me.

Jesus is my dream.

I love Him and want to love Him more; I'm desperate for a desperate heart; I'm hungry for more hungering and thirsting after His righteousness. I'm done with the hopelessness and the sickness and all the other crap that I've allowed to hold me back from living full into His creative, prophetic imagination for me. The voices that taunt with accusations that I will never change, that I am destined to make the same mistakes over and over, that I have nothing much to contribute to the big, beautiful, radiant body of Christ...

I'm over it.

Jesus is my leader, my wonderful counselor, the God who sees me. He is my all in all. He is my great big wild and crazy dream. And while I strain to touch Him, He is already holding me in the palms of His hands. He has my name tattooed there: Amy Danielle, beloved.

I want to inject Him into my very vein and blood, I want Him beside me, around me, inside me. I want to breathe in and exhale Jesus. I want knowing Him to transform me. I know that part of His dream for me, part of the subplot my life plays into His story, is to share Him with YOU. To allow my heart to spill out what's inside for others to see. To become incense, to allow Him to light up my heart so the fragrance ascends to His throne. To take others by the hand and lead them to Him.

So let this day be a declaration.

Come, Lord Jesus. Light me up. Stoke the embers into a roaring flame that licks up all the chaff. Make me burn brightly, let Your fire refine, remove all the dross that dulls my heart and shine, Jesus, shine! In me, around me, through me.

To your glory, forever and ever, world without end.

~amy danielle


{Can I ask a special favor from you, kind readers? Instead of kudos or criticism, would you consider joining me today? Would you sit with me at His feet and hear Him speak? Please leave your declaration in the comments box, and prayer requests.}

2 comments:

  1. What Beautiful, powerful portraits of life. Oh, what fruit He is producing in your life, dearest Amy. I wish I could speak about them, and talk to you. Perhaps one day soon. Maranatha!!!!!!!
    All my love, Dear fellow bridesmaid!!!
    Manda

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    1. Oh Amanda, what a gift to see you here. I am praying for you every day. You are often the last thing I talk to Jesus about every night before I fall asleep. My pain reminds me to pray for yours. I love you, dear, dear sister. xoxox

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