A Journal Entry: Wind & Fire

Dear Heavenly Father, 

       I don't know what you see. I don't know what lies ahead. All I see is what lies in front of me at which I wish to curl up in fetal position, close my eyes, and give up the fight. It's been quiet but I still feel you so seemingly close, so patient. Oh, how I wish I had the eyes to see what must be worth the wait. When shall it come? Tomorrow? Or must this exhaustion drag for another month? Years? What could possibly be worth waiting years in miserable patience to reap? Yet how could I possibly know? I know better than to attempt to guess the plans of a master I can't even begin to comprehend. So, I wait. But what shall I do in the waiting? Use all my mustered-up motivation to crawl out of bed for a Bible Study I don't seem to receive clarity from, to write a song that fails to grant me peace of understanding the conflicting emotions spiraling within me, or maybe writing this prayer in which you always respond with an unsettling grin and repeat "just wait".  In fact, I am not entirely sure I even understand what it means to wait. Is it you that I am waiting on, circumstances to pass, opportunities to come, or the end of my stupidity to arrive and ease my self-inflicted bondage once more? "Just wait." Does it mean I need to grow quiet internally or externally? Do I need to slow down my race to eternity? What lies in the darkness that my current flame doesn't stretch far enough to expose, and how can I grow this fire when I am in the middle of a storm in which the winds knock me off my feet? Surely removing my hand from guarding the flame will suddenly extinguish what I have traveled through such vast extremities to build upon. "Wait." Is that it? Do you want me to drop it all? Stop fighting the wind and breath in the scenery? What happens when wind meets fire? Will it smother my light until it disappears, or will it work in your favor to fan the flame into spreading so intensely as a powerful, unpredictable, and uncontainable wildfire? This sounds like the voice of my Father once more asking "Are you ready?". Maybe that slight grin and excitement in your eyes spring from a spontaneous, new risk you are calling me to step into. Yes, this must be it, the familiar yet somehow unique and surprising voice of my God working against the odds to use the opposing factors meant to destroy each spark of good for a journey of impossible love. "Just wait." Surrender. Joy. Sacrifice. Love. Peace. Suffer with passion to watch the same wind that once led me to cower in fear now become the very component that fuels the carryout of your wonderous grace. Yes, I am ready Lord. Take me through another season with you. Let all else fall away at the sound of your voice. Shake the ground I am standing on, renew my mind, guide me through the fog, and teach me to wait in you. Let your passion burst through my veins, let your breath fill every crevasse of my lungs, and secure me in the shadow of your wings as you cast beauty from the ashes. In Jesus name, 

Amen.