footprints-let Him Carry You

I am finding it increasingly challenging to maintain my steady  perspective these days.  I feel a heaviness of grief in my chest like a lump.  I just saw a video of some little girl, surrounded by her own gaggle of pint-sized “amen-ers” in an NAR church (New Apostolic Reformation), maybe ten years old, “preaching” false doctrine, encouraging the adult males and females in the “sanctuary” to “be a funnel” and receive the “rain” of blessing and speaking in tongues.  The packed congregation responded with such enthusiasm to the false teaching of this exploited young girl, who has been taught to blaspheme and that what she is doing is not just right and good, but a “gift” that she is meant to go around bestowing on others by laying hands on them.

The rioting and the targeting of police officers, the news of these ridiculous bathroom laws being foisted onto churches in some states, more and more incitement of rage between black and white and all the hate and coldness.  I feel the chill of it.  My bones and my deepest spirit just ache with it and it’s a grief that can’t find expression in mere tears.  It’s so much deeper and broader.  It can only be expunged by pouring it out to the Lord.

The fatigue that I live with, has been getting worse for the past few months.  And that is even though all of my meds, which I had previously mentioned that insurance may no longer cover, have actually been approved and covered without interruption.

I imagine I should not be surprised, since even though what I do here, I consider to be a very miniscule piece of Kingdom Work, exposing the lies of the enemy and shedding the light of truth in the midst of such encompassing and increasing darkness, is in opposition to the enemy and this may simply be the cost.  I know even if it is,  permission was granted by the Lord, and despite the sometimes overwhelming desire to walk away from this battle, I don’t have any intention of surrendering or ceding anything to the enemy, unless the Lord Himself releases me.  I admit sometimes I wish that He would.

I think there is persecution that doesn’t necessarily come at the hands of government or society, but is more personal.  Look at Job.  Not that I am comparing, but the troubles visited upon him were direct from Satan.  One to one, and customized, but God allowed them.

I pray for you, that if you share this sensitivity to the level of evil in our “environment”, that God will carry you.  I couldn’t even pretend that I continue to do this via anything within myself, even if I wanted to.  God has been carrying me for quite some time now.  I had not really faced that fact squarely, we are such prideful creatures who want to do it ourselves. But  I can’t.  I simply can’t. I am beyond spent.   Despite having had to accept the loss of strength and stamina and ability and options for many years already, it is still somehow surprising to me to feel what little remaining strength ebb plumb away.  This is, in God’s economy, the best way for us to be of usefulness to God though, is it not? Tthe stripping away of self and flesh.  And maybe I should view it as signifying entrance into a new season of seeing God work in ways I stand little chance of ever mistaking as being my own achievements.  If so, that is fine by me.  It is hard to find the line between yielding and effort, to know which is appropriate when. But I reckon that when you have nothing to offer but your weakness, at least then there’s no question Whose work is taking place.  And despite calls by so many in the church, for us to rise to action, to do more, I think yielding the right of way to G0d, to the Holy Spirit, is the surest avenue conducive to minimizing delays, detours, and distractions, and God’s desired ends being achieved.

But maybe that’s just the muddled musings of a mind fogged with fatigue.  God knows.  Thankfully, God knows.  That’s good enough.  In a “need to know” world, I am finding that it can be a relief to leave more of the knowing to God, and stick with simply trusting.

footprints-revisited

 

 

 

6 thoughts on “

  1. I’m with you. I feel the oppression around me and continue to press in to The Lord. I am so weary and tired. I’m looking forward to going home. BTW, your “muddled” is still crystal clear.

    • Re: “BTW, your “muddled” is still crystal clear” — You poor dear! We can weave baskets together then. That’s the most affirming thing anyone has said to me all day, lol. Welcome to the funny farm, the short bus will be leaving for the circus in an hour. Be there or be, I’m sorry, what was your name again?

      I get punchy when I’m tired. Has anyone noticed?

  2. I think so many of us are right there with you. Much of the time, the grief and even the fatigue, is a reflection or perhaps consequence of, the Spirit within us battling against the evil spirit encompassing the globe. God never grows weary of course and He provides us with enough for each moment. We need to pray for one another to remain steadfast and to finish the race.
    Love the cartoon! I’m gonna steal it! Lol

    • Hey, I didn’t come up with it, so feel free to share the love. My other favorite is the one with a baby, sitting in divided water in a plastic kiddie pool, with the caption reading “Moses as a young child”. And you are right, we have to pray for each other and we have to remember not only that this all has a happy ending, but that it is okay to be light-hearted even now. I like what IRISHLADY says, continue to press in to the Lord. When we get to heaven all us ladies can weave daisy chains and play ring-around-the-rosie together, maybe make mud pies (or some heavenly equivalent of that) because we will be young again! That right there, all by itself, is enough to give me giggles.

      • You’ll find it humorous that my profession is interior design. I am literally decorating the world as it goes down. The clients I have are clueless and each job I take I ask The Lord to take it from me. He keeps sending the jobs to me. They think I’m there to decorate and all the while I’m praying for their salvation. Basket weaving, home making, the simplicity of home shared with loved ones all sound like Heaven to me. So, dear sister, I will sit with you to weave flower halos to wear while we dance for The Lord. We will laugh and sing and praise Him:

        “Blessed Assurance, Jesus is mine
        O what a foretaste of glory divine
        Heir of salvation, purchased of God
        Born of His Spirit, washed in His Blood

        This is my story, this is my song
        Praising my Savior all the day long
        This is my story, this is my song
        Praising my Savior all the day long.

        Perfect submission, perfect delight
        Visions of rapture, now burst on my sight
        Angels descending, bring from above, above
        Echoes of mercy, whispers of love

        Keep singing, soon and very soon!

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