My mom might laugh at this…but I never would have used the word stubborn to describe myself, and it’s not typically a word that most people associate with me. I’ve hit a stubborn streak, folks.
Isn’t it just the greatest thing when God shows you how _______ you’re being? (Sarcasm at it’s finest) Talk about a dose of humble pie. Oh, humble pie. It tastes good eventually, because at some point the prideful swelling goes down and allows you to enjoy a little bit of humility. However, until that prideful swelling goes down, it is one of the most disgusting things one could possibly eat and it’s really hard to even be in the same room–with it’s overly obnoxious, wafting aroma of humility, it’ll make a person sick to their stomach.
Anywho, you must be wondering what exactly it is that I’m being stubborn about…
We have this phrase at Adventures: “feel all the feelings”, among other phrases of this nature. Yup, you guessed it. I’m stubbornly not allowing myself to feel all the feelings, and my heart is trying to turn into this icy dungeon.
It’s really true when they tell you that the enemy likes to attack you right after a spiritual high because that is when you’re most likely to let your guard down. Something about feeling on top of the world allows you to blindly believe that you can actually overcome the world on your own, and before long, you find yourself falling, face first, into a pile of cow manure. Well, not really cow manure–that’s just the first thing that came to my mind since my home is surrounded by cow farms on all sides.
I felt like a golden child last week, however this week I found myself feeling far from it. I felt bitterness and anger and hurt and resentment and all the ugly feelings about to break down my door and invade my beautifully adorned little heart-home.
What changed?
I felt so close to my Father last week. How could I feel like I lost so much ground this week?
I looked around again, and I realized that something is off. I have allowed the enemy to place those stupid goggles back over my eyes, manipulating my view of what is really going on. So, I ripped them off my face, throwing them across the room, and watched them as they shatter. My Father was actually standing right in front of me, right where He was last week–in the same position He was last time I saw Him. He never left. He was always there.
He asked me to dance with Him, but I was not ready for this. I don’t dance. It’s awkward. I don’t know what I’m doing. This is WAYYYY out of my comfort zone. SO, I stand there stubbornly.
He patiently asks me to dance again. I’m not ready for this. This time, I realize that it’s not my job to be ready, and that I just need to be willing. So, He let’s me step on His feet (just like dad’s do with their little girls) and we begin to dance.
