settling down

"God, the Master, The Holy of Israel,
   has this solemn counsel:
'Your salvation requires you to turn back to me 
   and stop your silly efforts to save yourselves.
Your strength will come from settling down
   in complete dependence on me - 
The very thing
   you've been unwilling to do.' "
        -Isaiah 30:15 (Msg.)


Faith is a journey that doesn't end until we see His face.


The lessons I'm learning now as my faith balloons and presses against the walls of my heart, threatening to burst me - they're practically the same lessons I thought I learned so many years ago when I first found faith in Christ.  


I wonder, trying not to chide too deeply, "Can I really still be needing milk?" Won't I ever learn? Will I ever find a different path than this ragged road of fighting self-sufficiency?


Like always, Jesus answers my endless questions with a question of His own ... What if you don't; will you still keep walking?

And I surrender.  Again.  Lean into Him harder.  Let go of my hallucinations that I can do it my way, take care of it on my own, save myself from myself.  Release my fists clenched around my self-made, self-inflicted shame and let Him redefine me - again.

In the summer of 1997 I realized that my way was no highway, so I gave my life to Him in surrender.  I told Jesus I had no intelligence, strength, wisdom, ability, or direction on my own, and I surrendered to His plan.  I told Him I'd depend on His power.  Completely.  

So, in 2012 . . . why do I still find myself fighting to surrender my will to His?

Who knows, but . . . Yes, Lord, I'll keep walking.

My salvation, my faith, my very life requires that every day I turn back to Him, open handed, hands raised to receive his mercy that flows new as the dawn breaks again.  I'm silly indeed for thinking I can even try my way.  Every breath dependent on His strength, every moment a choice to release the rope of control.  

I want no credit for good.  Not an ounce.  What I'm learning though, is that in order for that to be possible, I need to let go of the bad too.  For as He makes beauty of my ashes, that is where the brightest light is displayed for His glory.  I fight Him for my sin, want to feel the pain of it, wallow in the filth of it so He won't have to.  

But it's far more glorious to let Him save me.  

My name means Shining with Fame.  Oh God, please not that.  Anything but that.  Let me disappear before I let that ever happen.  And sometimes I'd rather die than stand on a stage.  Even a stage built for Him.  I'm so afraid they'll look at me too much.  Frightened they'll see more of me than Him.  More of my filth than His grace, and how can I ever live up to Robyn, Shining with Fame?

The only answer today - lovely! - another question: How can you be anything else?

I have no idea.  But I surrender again, though I thought I'd surrendered yesterday.  I lean into Jesus alone.  He will carry me.  Save me.  Redeem me. And "the very thing I've been unwilling to do"  - every day of my life - I choose willingness to settle down in complete dependence on Him.  

I settle into You.  I'm not my own, because You bought me at the highest Price.  I'm Yours.  Shine through me, if You must.  All of Your will and none of mine.

why I'm thankful for my mom . . .

 . . . because she did a good job.  Yours truly is exhibit A.

Okay, maybe that sounds a little prideful, but I say it that way because that's what she'd want me to say.  She'd want me to put aside my perfectionism, striving, self-doubt and maybe even sometimes shame, and say I like Me.  And what I want more than most things is to make her proud of me by being confident in the daughter she raised.

No - it's not always easy, but just as my insecurity spews the message that I think God did a shoddy job making me, I blush to ponder how my fear of inadequacy might spew that I question what she did too.  And, I just really don't want to say that.  Not at all.

Because my mom is super great.  She's patient and generous, talented and bold, loving and compassionate.  So many things our Savior is.  She's been Jesus's hands and feet to me.  She has loved me sacrificially, and affirmed me for who I am and not just for what I do (yeah - that is my love language, in case you didn't know).  She puts up with the fact that I never send her any pictures of her grandkids, except if it's by text.  She forgives me when her Mother's Day card arrives a few days too late, and her birthday card, and her Christmas present . . . I really hate shipping, and the post office in general.  Sorry, Mom.

I'm thankful for my mom because God knew I'd need her in order to become me - and that no one else would do.

She's a great artist too, isn't she?  You can check out more of her art here .

And here's another fun link - from another mom (a pig-farmer's wife/writer who home-schools half-a-dozen kids!)

One Thousand Moms Project for Haiti 

I hope you'll join me in being thankful for your mom too.