Destroying More Idols

For the past few weeks I've been mourning. It feels wrong to even call it that since I've never been close enough to death to mourn a loved one who is gone from this life. But this mourning and grieving is different. I didn't even know it was happening until I finally got the memo from Heaven. He has revealed to me this death of what I thought was a fundamental part of myself.

The part of myself that is dying is something I use every day. It the something that plans my to-do lists and daily human stuff. It's the preparation and organization part of my imagination. God wants it sanctified and made into His. It's really a hard thing to let go of. It's kind of funny to me because mine has never been all that useful for getting stuff done. It's riddled with lies and misconceptions. It's a very weak part of my soul even though I attempted to use it often. As can be expected, I'm not very organized.

When God told me to homeschool it wasn't until this year that I realized that He alone would be the one to do it. I have felt my shortcomings in that department for about three years now. I even put my oldest in first grade because of those feelings. But He paved the way for me to homeschool and has stood by me the whole two months so far! I continue to play tug of war with Him for my imagination, however. Or it's just a stubborn root of my fallen identity that takes a lot of digging to pull out.

Lately I've forgotten so much practical stuff. But God has been reminding me of what matters. If I am obedient and faithful and I act accordingly then things work out wonderfully for God's glory. If I am hesitant and doubtful and I fail to act, a disquiet enters my soul and I am lost in a mental fog or a strange spiritual darkness. Sometimes it's obedient to wait for confirmation. Other times it's rebellion to fail at listening. There's no formula for when to act on faith or when to wait. There is a Person who calls us forward or says to wait on Him.  Know His voice and you'll know His commands.

I've often been the daughter rushing forward trying desperately to please her Father only to find myself knee-deep in failure with consequences going on for miles. That was me for so long. I was never afraid to make a commitment or to start a new quest! My name should have been Sally Forth!  Back in the day, that meant to rush forward in battle. Bravery or stupidity is hard to call out sometimes in some people. But I've been given three kids to care for now and I've learned to be conservative with life-altering decisions. It really wasn't until I was a mother that I mellowed out.

I crave change, variety, and adventure. Boredom is truly a discipline for me. Waiting doesn't put me in danger of stagnating because I tend to stir stuff up while I wait. My problem is finding a place. That's obvious if you look at my clutter piles. I have many containers in my house that hold all the wrong stuff. There is a disconnect between a place for everything and everything in it's place. My obsession with freedom wars with my need for consistency. How does that work? Well, we go with the flow until the banks get tangled with distraction and junk. Soon the proverbial river is so polluted and overgrown that it makes it impossible to move forward with anything.

This must be where God is working. And here I am writing a blog, trying to understand it. I want to document it so I can see it. I want to pull it out so I can fathom it. But this abiding and accepting of God's hand working in my heart is so much grief! I'm watching Him pull out things that I thought were part of who I am. But they are dead already. They were part of my old ways. Well, couldn't I keep them as trinkets, Lord? No. They are dangerous because they were idols. I relied on them, deferred to them, and owned them as part of my identity. They need to be burned up in the all-consuming fire. I am a new creation now. But I'm in a chrysalis or seed pod or pick your favorite metaphorical incubator. As my hull shrivels and peels back, it gives way to a completely new life. The old is passing away.

So I'm mourning the old. The ripping and tearing apart of my soul so that my mingled spirit can take it's perfect place within me is a violent and yet beautiful thing. Jesus didn't take classes on how to walk upon the waters. He wasn't privy to certain information about the future so I doubt He knew about the miracles beforehand. His trust was perfect. God said "jump" and Jesus didn't ask any questions like, "how high?" He obeyed perfectly. It takes a whole lot of death for us to get to that perfection. And that death makes way for Life.

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