“But My servant Caleb—this is a different story.
He has a different spirit; he follows Me passionately.
I’ll bring him into the land that he scouted and his children will inherit it." (14:24)
It wasn't until I drew into an intimate relationship with my ABBA, that I found where I fit in. I was always different from those around me, much like a square peg trying to fit into a round hole. I was thinking just yesterday how He helped me realize it has always been because of Him - working on me - even before I knew Him.
And now, I am so head over heels in love with Him. My ABBA.
I love how He has given me a different spirit and I am a woman running after His own heart. I love following Him passionately. Even when the noise of ridicule, rejection, rebuke, rumbles in the background from the voices of those who don't know Him intimately.
We are often blessed with the gift of being in worship with at least one of our children. Just a week ago, we were standing along side Nichalas and Amber in the upper balcony, our heads almost touching the ceiling, hearing the singing voices rise up to Him on their way through the rafters, at the Dream City Church in Phoenix. Yesterday, we were standing with Adam and Ashley. The sound of her beautiful voice gave my heart such joy, as we sang in worship together to our Lord. My heart burst knowing our grandchildren, Charlie and Ella, were in their classes. Learning. Singing. Worshiping. Rest in knowing they are being trained up "in" Him.
It wasn't until I drew into an intimate relationship with my ABBA, that I found where I fit in. I was always different from those around me, much like a square peg trying to fit into a round hole. I was thinking just yesterday how He helped me realize it has always been because of Him - working on me - even before I knew Him.
And now, I am so head over heels in love with Him. My ABBA.
I love how He has given me a different spirit and I am a woman running after His own heart. I love following Him passionately. Even when the noise of ridicule, rejection, rebuke, rumbles in the background from the voices of those who don't know Him intimately.
We are often blessed with the gift of being in worship with at least one of our children. Just a week ago, we were standing along side Nichalas and Amber in the upper balcony, our heads almost touching the ceiling, hearing the singing voices rise up to Him on their way through the rafters, at the Dream City Church in Phoenix. Yesterday, we were standing with Adam and Ashley. The sound of her beautiful voice gave my heart such joy, as we sang in worship together to our Lord. My heart burst knowing our grandchildren, Charlie and Ella, were in their classes. Learning. Singing. Worshiping. Rest in knowing they are being trained up "in" Him.
No matter where, the words of praise songs overwhelm my heart.
My heart is on fire for my Lord.
His Hand is holding mine, as I can not help but raise it to Him during the songs. The words wash over my heart as I sing them as prayer, tears spill out of my closed lids and streak down my made up face.
It matters not.
It matters not that my mascara has went from my lashes to dark lines running down my face. It matters not that my voice is not one of harmony. He has told me, "I am fearfully and wonderfully made", including my voice.
And now I sing.
I sing loudly.
I want Him to know my heart sings for Him. I want Him to know my heart beseechingly sings prayer to Him.
It is there, standing with my Curt. It is there, standing beside our young sons and daughter-in-loves. It is there, in the same building as our grandchildren. My cup runneth over with joy and peace. Knowing their hearts are sold out to Him. Knowing one day we will not be separated by distance, one day this family of ours will be together with Him. Eternally. Together. Face to face. With our ABBA.
It matters not that I have made mistakes in my role of their mother. There are many moments I am so thankful they don't remember. Moments which did not form who they are today, because our Abba stepped in and covered them, protected them from those errors. He grew all of us through those moments.
But - what does matter is - they see I have "a different spirit; that I follow God passionately" and were drawn to becoming that way too.
What does matter more than anything - is one day their children, and their children's children, shall see them in the same way.
His Hand is holding mine, as I can not help but raise it to Him during the songs. The words wash over my heart as I sing them as prayer, tears spill out of my closed lids and streak down my made up face.
It matters not.
It matters not that my mascara has went from my lashes to dark lines running down my face. It matters not that my voice is not one of harmony. He has told me, "I am fearfully and wonderfully made", including my voice.
And now I sing.
I sing loudly.
I want Him to know my heart sings for Him. I want Him to know my heart beseechingly sings prayer to Him.
It is there, standing with my Curt. It is there, standing beside our young sons and daughter-in-loves. It is there, in the same building as our grandchildren. My cup runneth over with joy and peace. Knowing their hearts are sold out to Him. Knowing one day we will not be separated by distance, one day this family of ours will be together with Him. Eternally. Together. Face to face. With our ABBA.
It matters not that I have made mistakes in my role of their mother. There are many moments I am so thankful they don't remember. Moments which did not form who they are today, because our Abba stepped in and covered them, protected them from those errors. He grew all of us through those moments.
But - what does matter is - they see I have "a different spirit; that I follow God passionately" and were drawn to becoming that way too.
What does matter more than anything - is one day their children, and their children's children, shall see them in the same way.
I pray with all that I am, His ripple will continue on until He comes again and they will always be -
Different from the world.
"One with a different spirit; that follows their Abba passionately."
No comments:
Post a Comment