I am sitting in absolute stillness and God speaking over me…it’s not the thunderous voice that so many describe…instead, it’s a whisper, a whisper that causes my rushing nature to resist the urge to move in the midst of my busyness.
And a voice, barely above a whisper cries out to me,
“have you seen how far I have brought you?”
It’s a question full of Fatherly tenderness, one whose wisdom always captivates those in His wake.
It’s a question that reminds me that He has defied odds with my story, because at times in my weakest hour I became convinced…that my empty hands defined me, that there was nothing better than my pale idea of perfection, and that the walls so carefully constructed for years needed to remain. My walls needed to remain standing.
I spent years in hiding.
I spent years confronting huge decisions with ease, but scared to death of the daily ones.
I spent years choosing heartache and loss over healing and love.
and He whispers, ever still,
“Have you seen how far I have brought you?
You were the fragile daughter, frail from indecision, fearful of new surroundings, and feeble from your people-pleasing.
My girl, who hid from people by cowering in the corner.
My girl, the one who locked away her voice and only expressed her feelings in written word.
My girl, have you seen how far I have brought you?”
That question wrecks my heart, because how many times has His voice broke the overbearing silence?
How many times have I chosen busyness over His quiet, innumerable blessings?
How many times have I chosen survival instead of thriving?
How many times have I placed all my hope in someone so imperfect, that he turned out to be perfectly human?
How many times have I poured out all that I am and refused to let Him fill me?