There are many things in this world that we hold dear...but I'm not sure if God wants us to hold on to ALL of them. There have been times when I find myself clutching on to something for so long, I didn't even realise how it was actually hurting me, that it wasn't doing me any good and God wanted me to let go. Sometimes, we just have to give things up to Him...because whatever we are holding on to...we are unable to do anything...we might even destroy that which we want so hard to preserve...but whatever we lay at His feet...He is God Almighty who knows what is best for us...and He knows what to do with what we give Him...
And so I'm reminded that I have been called to die to myself...everyday...to lay myself at His feet...my dreams, hopes & desires, my hurts & fears, my pride...I am to take up the cross...and follow Him...to fix my eyes on Him...and just follow Him... I don't know where exactly I'm heading...but I know I can trust who I'm following...
PSALM 61:3
"To console those who mourn in Zion,
To give them beauty for ashes,
The oil of joy for mourning,
The garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness;
That they may be called trees of righteousness,
The planting of the LORD, that He may be glorified."
A Poem written by Joyce Meyer - Beauty for Ashes
Once I held in my tightly clenched fists, ashes.
Ashes from a burn inflicted upon my six-year-old body.
Ashes I didn’t ask for.
The scars were forced on me.
And for twenty-seven years the fires smouldered.
I kept my fist closed in secret, hating those ashes yet unwilling to release them.
Not sure if I should.
Not convinced it was worth it.
Marring the things I touched and leaving black marks everywhere, or so it seemed.
I tried to undo it all.
But the ashes were always there to remind me that I couldn’t.
I really couldn’t.
But God could.
His sweet Holy Spirit spoke to my heart one night in tearful desperation.
He whispered,
“I want to give you beauty for your ashes.
The oil of joy for mourning.
And a garment of praise for your spirit of heaviness.”
I had never heard of such a trade as this!
Beauty for ashes?
My sadly stained memory for the healing in His Word?
My soot-like dreams for His songs in the night?
My helpless and hurting emotions for His ever-constant peace?
How could I be so stubborn as to refuse an offer such as this?
So willingly, yet in slow motion, and yes while sobbing, I opened my bent fingers and let the ashes drop to the ground.
I heard the wind blow them away, away from me forever.
I am now able to place my open hands gently around the fist of another hurting soul and say with confidence,
“Let them go.
There really is beauty beyond your comprehension.
Go ahead, trust Him.
His beauty for your ashes.”
And so I'm reminded that I have been called to die to myself...everyday...to lay myself at His feet...my dreams, hopes & desires, my hurts & fears, my pride...I am to take up the cross...and follow Him...to fix my eyes on Him...and just follow Him... I don't know where exactly I'm heading...but I know I can trust who I'm following...
PSALM 61:3
"To console those who mourn in Zion,
To give them beauty for ashes,
The oil of joy for mourning,
The garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness;
That they may be called trees of righteousness,
The planting of the LORD, that He may be glorified."
A Poem written by Joyce Meyer - Beauty for Ashes
Once I held in my tightly clenched fists, ashes.
Ashes from a burn inflicted upon my six-year-old body.
Ashes I didn’t ask for.
The scars were forced on me.
And for twenty-seven years the fires smouldered.
I kept my fist closed in secret, hating those ashes yet unwilling to release them.
Not sure if I should.
Not convinced it was worth it.
Marring the things I touched and leaving black marks everywhere, or so it seemed.
I tried to undo it all.
But the ashes were always there to remind me that I couldn’t.
I really couldn’t.
But God could.
His sweet Holy Spirit spoke to my heart one night in tearful desperation.
He whispered,
“I want to give you beauty for your ashes.
The oil of joy for mourning.
And a garment of praise for your spirit of heaviness.”
I had never heard of such a trade as this!
Beauty for ashes?
My sadly stained memory for the healing in His Word?
My soot-like dreams for His songs in the night?
My helpless and hurting emotions for His ever-constant peace?
How could I be so stubborn as to refuse an offer such as this?
So willingly, yet in slow motion, and yes while sobbing, I opened my bent fingers and let the ashes drop to the ground.
I heard the wind blow them away, away from me forever.
I am now able to place my open hands gently around the fist of another hurting soul and say with confidence,
“Let them go.
There really is beauty beyond your comprehension.
Go ahead, trust Him.
His beauty for your ashes.”
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment