You who hold the stars,
can you hold me?
You who calmed the sea,
can you calm me?
You who formed the mountains,
can you form me?
You who care for the sparrow,
can you care for me?
You who healed the blind man,
can you heal me?
You who breathed life into the dead,
can you breathe life into me?
You who saved the world,
can you save me?
And like a evening wind, unexpected but desired, the Father of Love, like a lion, wild, roars across the sea of my pity which I have created and wakes me from the sleep which I so easily succumb to.
And I awake to his glorious splendor, gracious fury, and overwhelming love, and I remember: this life is not about me.
It’s about him.
And I am made to represent him.
Him.
The One who imagined E-minor before it was first sung, the One who thought of a sunset when there was nothing but darkness, and the One who saw a world full of billions of people and decided it should have me.
Me.
But only because of Him.
Why on earth would I suppose or presume that such a loving Father, who created my whole being: body, soul, and spirit, would leave me in the dust of life to simply fend for myself?
How prideful of me to assume that God would forget me.
True humility is found in identity.
And my identity is in Him.
And He does not forget His own.
He does not shame His children.
He does not leave the reward of His suffering sitting on the side of the road.
He bades me come follow Him.
True humility is not found in a pity party, declaring my unworthiness, but rather it is found in knowing He has made me worthy and delights in me.
And if He delights in me, than why would He forget me?
If He delights in me, why would He not hold my heart?
If He delights in me, why would He not prepare a great and wonderful feast for me?
If He delights in me, why would He not make ready my tomorrow and make me ready for my tomorrow?
Surrender.
May I not be found in a self-righteous pity party, but in His everlasting arms, knowing my worth because I know His.
And He calls me His own.
And that is enough.
Humility is found when I find myself delighting in Him and having Him delight in me. Because then, He is enough, and I am enough. There is no need to wail, condemn myself, or perform. It is only Him and I, just as in the garden so very long ago, and there is no need to do anything else but relate to and delight in each other.
There comes a time when the season of grieving is done.
The storm has passed and you must put up your sails, unafraid of the winds that will come.
Make yourself ready.
Surrender.
And get ready for a world of surprise and delight.
For oh how the Father delights to delight in you.
He who holds the stars can surely hold you.
the unworthy wanderer 