Dear Abba,
For many years I have fought with myself about the feelings and thoughts that others have about me. Lord, I have always felt so isolated, so repulsive. I listen to the condemnation raised about me. They don't even know me, yet they plague me. They attack me. Their jeers and sneers torment me. If only they could see beyond the exterior . . . the facade that I've created to protect me from . . . them. My God, my protection is my prison. But You, O Lord, are my helper, a very present help. Thank you, Lord for the protection you offer. You can help me remove the mask and face the world. I no longer need to hide from the darts that are thrown at me for I am insulated by your loving arms. And when I am wearied by this warfare, You say, "Let me have it." Here it is, Abba.
Psalm 54:2 - 4 "Hear my prayer, O God; give ear to the words of my mouth. For strangers are risen up against me, and oppressors seek after my soul. . . Behold, God is mine helper."
Friday, October 17, 2008
Friday, August 22, 2008
"Peace . . . Sleep"
Dear Abba,
I'm tired. For a lifetime it seems I have been without rest. My sleep has long been tormented by the imps of the night. They take the form of flesh, cloaking themselves in the darkness of night, seeking to devour me. So long I slept cocooned in the barricade of my blanket ~ a protective covering ~ a second skin so easily torn away. Oh, my Father, to know You now. To be wrapped in the cocoon of your Holy Spirit, my Comforter. Your praises, now my lullabies, usher me into the sweet peace of Your presence. I rest with You: safe in my haven of Heavenly Hope. Abba, You wait and watch as I drift into sleep and set your angels at the cornerposts of my bed. You whisper, "Peace . . . Sleep."
Goodnight Daddy.
Psalm 4:8 "I will both lay me down in peace and sleep: for thou, Lord, only makest me dwell in safety." KJV
I'm tired. For a lifetime it seems I have been without rest. My sleep has long been tormented by the imps of the night. They take the form of flesh, cloaking themselves in the darkness of night, seeking to devour me. So long I slept cocooned in the barricade of my blanket ~ a protective covering ~ a second skin so easily torn away. Oh, my Father, to know You now. To be wrapped in the cocoon of your Holy Spirit, my Comforter. Your praises, now my lullabies, usher me into the sweet peace of Your presence. I rest with You: safe in my haven of Heavenly Hope. Abba, You wait and watch as I drift into sleep and set your angels at the cornerposts of my bed. You whisper, "Peace . . . Sleep."
Goodnight Daddy.
Psalm 4:8 "I will both lay me down in peace and sleep: for thou, Lord, only makest me dwell in safety." KJV
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
"Come, now. . ."
Dear Abba,
For many years I was afraid to talk to you. I hid my pain, the shame of my sin, the confusion of my mind, and the ache of my heart. I thought it was buried and it was . . . but it wasn't dead. When the power of your love unearthed them, the only place I could run for comfort, for rescue was to you. Thank you. Your grace, Your peace, your joy. Lord, you washed me, inside and out. Abba, it was such a painful process - - still is. I feel like I've been scrubbed on an old-fashioned washboard: pulled and pushed across the bumps and grids then wound through the wringer. Sometimes it feels like I was beaten with a stick, laid out upon a rock, or put to hang from a tree. Each time I recalled a painful experience, suffered through a flashback, or relived a torturous memory, I ran to you. How long have you been waiting for me to talk to you . . . to be able to reason with me? How much sooner could I have been relieved of this burden had I just sought to communicate with you? Oh, but now, Abba, the freedom you give allows me direct access to you. I run to you, I cry on your lap, I express my pain, my fear, my everything. You pat my head, you rub my back, you hold my hand and you say, "Come, now."
I'm here, Lord.
Isaiah 1:18 "Come now, and let us reason together," says the Lord. "Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool." KJV
For many years I was afraid to talk to you. I hid my pain, the shame of my sin, the confusion of my mind, and the ache of my heart. I thought it was buried and it was . . . but it wasn't dead. When the power of your love unearthed them, the only place I could run for comfort, for rescue was to you. Thank you. Your grace, Your peace, your joy. Lord, you washed me, inside and out. Abba, it was such a painful process - - still is. I feel like I've been scrubbed on an old-fashioned washboard: pulled and pushed across the bumps and grids then wound through the wringer. Sometimes it feels like I was beaten with a stick, laid out upon a rock, or put to hang from a tree. Each time I recalled a painful experience, suffered through a flashback, or relived a torturous memory, I ran to you. How long have you been waiting for me to talk to you . . . to be able to reason with me? How much sooner could I have been relieved of this burden had I just sought to communicate with you? Oh, but now, Abba, the freedom you give allows me direct access to you. I run to you, I cry on your lap, I express my pain, my fear, my everything. You pat my head, you rub my back, you hold my hand and you say, "Come, now."
I'm here, Lord.
Isaiah 1:18 "Come now, and let us reason together," says the Lord. "Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool." KJV
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