Monday, March 5, 2012

The Worship Room

My Home away from home.
My Safety. The place I hide…in Him.
The place I pour myself out.
The place where I replenish.
My chosen avenue to the Throne Room.
The place I listen.
The place I hear.
My “beside still waters.”
My secret place.

On my drive home from work today;
I realized something. Over the past
year now, the worship room….
has become my place of intense labor.

I rush in desperate pursuit of my King’s
heart and find myself shaking in His
very presence because it is so thick and
powerful, but I leave…                                            


My only conclusion: labor pains.

There cannot be satisfaction in the labor.
It is hard and mostly painful. It takes a
highly concentrated effort. Focus. Quiet.
And another to push you when you are ready
to give up.

I keep having these satisfying moments that
I think “finally the birthing process has begun.”
But it’s not true yet. The satisfaction “in between”
is just the moment I can catch my breath before
another contraction hits.

The Worship Room.

The place I labor.
The place of un-satisfaction that I must
press through because in the end – His
promise is a satisfaction and destiny that
will never cease.

The Worship Room.

HERE – the promise is being birthed.

The dreams.
The visions.
The prophecies.
The ministry.
The calling.
The destiny.
The woman.

Here, His promise is being birthed.

“It will happen. It will come quickly.
It will be soon.”

So today, I make a decision to run into
the arms of a King, though I may find
no satisfaction or relief yet. Today I make
a decision that tomorrow and the next
day and the next I will do the very same
thing….because more than anything on
earth do I long to see His promise fulfilled
in me and through me.

I hunger and thirst for You only.
I’ll have no other. I want no other.
I choose You. You’re the One I want.
I will waste my life for You.
I will run to You & I will lift my head to
the sky and thank You even when a drought
 has covered the land and the sky is empty.

The Worship Room.

My place of deep anguish, longing, intercession.
My Hope when the eye cannot see.
The place my eyes fixate on when I don’t know
what else to do.

The Worship Room.

The place where His promises will be birthed.

“It will happen. It will come quickly.
It will be soon.”

Give me a heart that looks like Yours. I want to
love the way You love.

Friday, February 10, 2012

i'm still here...

Lately I have had this craving.

For adventure, I suppose.

For the smell of a coffee shop and the busyness
outside its window. For the artwork just down  
the road or a museum to peruse through endless
in thought.  I miss wearing peacoats and carrying
umbrellas and walking down the street – normally
feeling bigger than the surrounding buildings.

For romance too.

Adventure & romance. They go hand in hand,
don’t you think?

I’ve been witnessing the very things I’ve
cried out for come true. I’ve watched them unfold
within me and around me. It’s like witnessing a true
miracle. There’s been such joy in this new season.
It’s kind of funny to say, but through the heartache
of the past few years (or rather the healing) – I’ve
found I’m already looking back and some how
missing it.

Not because I felt so close to God then and now
I do not.  No, that’s not it at all.  Rather, I think,
because there was safety and routine and rhythm
in this past season. I came to fit into it and be
content in it as if it were my own skin.

I’m glad things are changing. It means I’m walking
more into my calling. Going deeper still. Witnessing
the very hand of God in my life. I’m working out a
new rhythm with the Lord.  I’m working out contentment
in certain areas.

Things are changing. It’s a new season.
The very one You promised.

It’s a season of life. The blooms fade not. The trees
yield their fruit twelve months of the year.

I’m thankful.
I’m still a little distant. Or cautious.
I enjoy secrets still – just between me & Him.
I doubt this part will ever change.

If you could see me now.
I laugh again. I really laugh again.


mornings & hills