When retreating looks like the best way forward

Hope this week finds you well, my friend.

Sadly, I'm feeling dog-tired. Reading feels like too much effort, let alone writing.

Words blur, eyes see double and hands cramp stiff.

The last few days have been a huge effort just to wake up and keep going with a body that only cries out for rest and sleep, yet is refreshed by neither.

As I've struggled, fought and wrought to find words to fix on a page - and come up empty - it has reminded me afresh how much I need Holy Spirit inspiration and enabling to do this at all (Okay, to do Everything). 

Ideas were there. But the execution of them was sticky as treacle, stodgy and heavy with a mind like porridge. 

I've thought, prayed and thought some more. The praying yielded better results as always. I sensed God saying, "Just write about how it is and I'll supply the words". 

At least He didn't say, "Do nothing". Much of life with M.E consists of saying "No" to some good things in order to say "Yes" to the better thing - which is usually more rest.

So here goes...let's start again. Lord, please show me what to say..

********

Six months ago I experienced burn-out and drain-out. I was totally depleted in mind, body and spirit.

Having struggled for a few years to keep going with the Women's Fellowship Group I was leading, it was obvious I was floundering, fatigued, and very near collapse, despite the clear supernatural anointing, enabling and equipping that had made it possible at all.

It was the only church-related act of service I had done in years. Attendance at anything else (including Sunday worship itself) was extremely unreliable at best.

So I took time out. Committed to rest. Committed to finding out what God might be asking me to do in the future.

Only I didn't completely rest. I was already fully engaged with social media and blogging by then. Soon, it became my main outlet, source of friendship, fellowship, church, and interest - and it still is. I rushed into everything like a child let loose in a sweet shop who runs eagerly up and down every aisle trying to grab at all the goodies on offer.

God-sized dream? Yay, why not? Living Wonderstruck challenge? Oh, yes, count me in. Join an on-line writing course? Just the ticket. Take up a 30 day Uni-tasking challenge? Great idea. Just what I need. Join lots of Facebook groups? Why not? I love to belong, connect, be a part of what's happening...

And these are all good things. Great ideas. Lovely ways to connect and learn. I've benefited hugely from being involved. Though enthusiasm will only carry us so far if there is insufficient energy to see things through.

But are they God's best for me? There are so many voices speaking into my life, clamouring for attention,  that I'm in danger of failing to heed the One Voice who has been seeking my attention all along.

I felt desperation to stay connected to the world as mine shrunk to four walls,  a deep desire and need for friendship with fellow M.E/chronic illness sufferers in particular, a real enjoyment of sharing thoughts and ideas with writers and bloggers.

But I have run into a problem: more burn-out, very little recovery to speak of, and confusion over what I'm really supposed to be giving my very depleted energy and limited 'active' time to. Sometimes we can spread ourselves so thin we're at risk of tearing into tiny, fragile pieces that are incapable of bringing substance to anything.

How do I decide the best way to move forward? God is showing me that it is only achieved by first stepping back, retreating a little, if you like.

Crashing and burning is an all too common phenomenon for M.E sufferers. The temptation to over-do things is irresistible when precious energy is available, but it leads to an urgent need for more rest, pacing, scaling back of activities and prioritising. That's where I'm at right now.

I don't often write about my life with M.E. (you can click on the link to see the main symptoms). It sits hovering in the background like an inconvenient truth I'd prefer to ignore, even if profound daily symptoms are an ever-present reminder. 

When they become as intrusive as they are now (I suffer from over 80% of the listed symptoms), they shout for attention and completely take over everything. Any semblance of the 'normal' life I crave is then impossible to hang on to.

Just recently I wrote a poetic lament about how unjustly those with M.E (and, indeed, other chronic physical and mental illnesses) are often perceived. Today, I am sharing my struggles in a different way.

I've not given up on anything yet (just dis-engaged and slowed down considerably), though I will have to soon to avoid further relapse.

What I am doing now is actively seeking to be quiet for a spell. And to facilitate this I am going on a retreat for a few days. They have no wi-fi, so it also means going 'cold-turkey' with social media...gulp!! My phone may not get a signal either...more gulping.

In the way with God-incidences, this was planned a few weeks ago when the only pressing need was a soothing, helpful environment to house and take care of me for a few days while my beloved (husband, carer and personal slave) goes to visit our youngest son. It was clear even then that I couldn't cope with the necessary 5+ hour (including stops) car journey there and back, the noise and disruption of planned DIY, nor the social interaction.

So this retreat is literally a god-send for all concerned. It involves taking a step back to evaluate where I am now and what may need changing, for we can get so caught up in comparing or competing with the ways, words, or works of others, that we fail to see what God is asking us to be, say/write, or do.

This side of it I have no idea what a retreat will look like, what I will do or achieve.

I hope to:sleep, rest, relax, switch off, unwind, listen to God, pray, read, write, drink in the peace and quiet, receive some spiritual mentoring. At this point it looks like sleep may be my main activity.

I am wary of even temporarily leaving the world of social media and the blogosphere that has been such a lifeline. The friendships and support gained there are invaluable to me as a housebound person who longs for connection, and the flexibility to dip in and out at a time of my choosing.

Even so, I recognise that my soul and body currently crave peace; stimulation of any kind is exhausting and silence is beginning to look like a very attractive option indeed.

The company of like-minded souls (and Anglican nuns) also sounds very appealing.

Knowing that I am one who devoured books about convent life and loved 'The Song of Bernadette' film as a child, my husband feels a bit worried that I may not want to return home again at the end of my stay!

Entering the novitiate may be tempting. Hmm...

But I love life, even one limited and constrained by chronic sickness. I love my family, friends, people, social interaction, chatting and being part of things too much to want to lose contact completely.

And I know too much silence may just drive me crazy

Balance is what it's all about.

Meanwhile, I know I will benefit from the break, but I'm also going to miss you all dreadfully.

And I need your help:
Please would you pray for me to make the best of this opportunity, to hear from God concerning my present and future calling, and to be able to discern the right way forward when I return? Thank you so much.

It has taken me a long, painfully slow, grinding week to write this in tiny snatches and if you have made it to the end of this rather long, meandering post, I congratulate you! 

There will be better days. I will write more eloquently. I will feel less sick and incapacitated. And I hope to record the retreat experience on a blog post near you very soon - God willing - if this is a temporary blip rather than a more serious setback.

So take good care of yourselves, my friends. I really look forward to catching up with you in a week or so.

May God greatly bless and keep you all in His tender loving care until we meet again.

PS:I love reading and replying to your comments. Please feel free to leave one below and I'll do my best to catch up with them when I return and (hopefully) normal service of sorts resumes. Thank you.

A New Song

Welcome to another foray into Five Minute Friday's free-fall, free flowing, as-it-comes, straight-from-the heart writing.

It's always a great challenge but also great fun to participate in.

You are very welcome to join us! Just click on the link at the end of this post to take you there.

This week I am stretching myself more by attempting to write a poem in just 5 minutes. The muse has been flowing fairly freely recently as my last three posts have all had poetry in them. Just to add an extra level of difficulty I'm aiming to make it rhyme. Gulp!

Today's prompt is:Song

Deep breath..let's see what happens..

Start...

A New Song

Image Courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.Net

"The Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing" ~ Zephaniah 3:17

Sing it loud and sing it clear

there's a new song in the air,

a song of freedom, hymn of praise

resounding through eternal days.

Our voices pick up the sweet refrain

and find it echoes through heart and brain.

Hear the cry

heed the sigh

of a Spirit's release

that brings us soul's ease.

Kept strong and sure

by a love that endures,

given grace, joy and peace

that will never cease.

No longer captive, held fast,

no longer imprisoned by our past.

This is a new day

this a new song.

Pick up the melody 

as you sing along.

For God is rejoicing over you today

as He sees you clothed in glorious array

Those dirt-rags don't fit you anymore

you're no longer wretched or poor.

Now we have hope and a future in view

that's truly liberating for me and for you.

Join in the song

Come raise your voice

with the heavenly throng

who will always rejoice.

Stop.

"He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see and fear, and put their trust in God" ~ Psalm 40:3

Phew! That was hard work today with time pressure, but at least I've written something. And that's what this is all about, to be brave and bold instead of aiming for spit-polished perfection.

Linking here with Lisa-Jo Baker for Five Minute Friday

To stay in touch with my posts (poetical and otherwise) you can follow by Twitter or like my Facebook page.

Journeying:Where it All Starts

Every life begins with a journey. As tiny infants we have to make our way into the world to truly commence on this adventure. It is taken as we traverse the birth canal, or maybe enter the world via a Cesarean Section.

The wonder of our time in the womb is a continual marvel that we are privy to in some small measure with intrauterine images.

Though nothing fully prepares us for the moment of arrival as we await the birth of our infants. Each one unique and special.

That time period of 40 weeks (more or less) is a miracle of Divine knowledge, planning and foresight.

God knows the secret place where conception takes place and the child develops. He is with us even as we flex and grow away from public view or scrutiny.

For those few weeks of our lives we literally live, move and have our being in Him as well as in our mother's womb.

I wonder what secrets we might have whispered to us by Holy Spirit's life-giving breath?

Sadly, I can only speculate. But I am sure we are welcomed, affirmed and celebrated even before we draw breath in the world outside this maternal home.

There is a secret that I've had to sit on for a few (excruciating) weeks when I longed to shout it from the rooftops:

We are on the way to becoming grandparents at the end of this year!

And I'm so excited I want to tell all.

So here is the news - leaked out publically now with permission from my youngest son (phew!) - and here is the poem that it inspired:

'Little One'

"For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb..my frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body.." ~ Psalm 139:13 - 16

Little one,

barely grape-sized 
foetal-curved comma

nestling in your warm and watery cave,

I want you to know

how precious you are

to this family

and most of all to the One

who gave you spark of life

His the arms

now cradling you safe

as you stretch and grow

from tiny speck to tiny infant

His the voice

soothing with lullaby

of peace and rest

to your soul in slumber

All that you are

and all that you will be,

all the days yet ahead

span out like your starfish fingers

eagerly embracing the future

Take hold, sweet child,

take hold of His hand

and grip tight

Those are hands of love,

offering, rejoicing over you

with singing, an endless refrain

caressing with His grace

Rest there safe

until time is ripe

for your grand arrival,

when we too will

cradle, love and soothe

your tiny frame

©JoyLenton2013

"All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be" ~ Psalm 139:16

This is part of a new series on journeying. I've written before about my God-sized dream journey and more aspects of life's journey will follow in time to come.

You can keep in touch with my posts by joining with Google Friend Connect, following on Twitter or by liking my Facebook page.

Being Framed

Sometimes there is a song needing to be sung, a word waiting to be heard, or a poem pressing to be penned.

Today is one of those days.

My offering is a poetic lament in support of M.E. Awareness Week (May 6th - 12th) and the way people with this condition are often perceived.  You can click on the link to find out more about it.

Being Framed

I've been framed, boxed, categorised,

sifted, found wanting in society's eyes.

I'm not the woman they think they see,

but an inner person that's really me.

Viewing the image the mirror provides

if I dare to risk, turning away with sighs;

decades of illness have left their mark

and it's hard to bear living in shaded dark.

My eyes need rest I urgently seek,

the brain is foggy, body made weak.

Pain and deformity cripple the frame

and it's hard to remember inside I'm the same.

A woman with dreams and a heart to express

all that's buried within, though under duress.

I want to be seen as I feel inside

but external appearance can cause me to hide.

Days without number I face my fears

that grow as hard to scale as our home stairs,

that this won't go away and I might not be healed

that the inner joy may be forever concealed.

For it's hard to stay cheerful, harder still to be bright

in a world that pushes us out of sight.

We're the invisible people, out of the game

our only identity is pain and shame.

Huge in number, if weak of voice,

the nameless ones who cannot rejoice

until labels and badges no longer apply

and we don't have to keep asking you, “Why?”

Why not believe us, why not accept

this could happen to you, being sick, life wrecked.

Your body a tomb for a spirit that's chained,

a livelihood lost, prison sentence gained.

Eyes that accuse, hearts that are hard

do nothing but continue marking our card.

Treated with scorn, hostility, derision

our whole future residing on whim of decision.

Fear haunts our days and disturbs our nights,

energy drained further to keep fighting our rights.

Please, won't you listen and heed the weak

as you hear our stories of the justice we seek?

Please remember we are people too,

not numbers, statistics, a warped world view.

Lives are at stake as bodies fail,

strong in intent, though our hearts quail.

Life in the Slow Lane can be no life at all

when it grinds to a halt against a brick wall.

If you know someone who has M.E,

please help them and tell them you see;

you witness their pain, you understand the need

and you won't turn away, you will pay heed.

All we ask is for people to see who we are,

recognising this disease will take us far

into a future where compassion can reign

instead of resentment, sadness and shame.

©JoyLenton2013

"Here is my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen one in whom I delight; I will put my Spirit on him and he will bring justice to the nations. He will not shout or cry out, or raise his voice in the streets. A bruised reed he will not break, and a smouldering wick he will not snuff out. In faithfulness he will bring forth justice; he will not falter or be discouraged until he establishes justice on earth. In his law the islands will put their hope." ~ Isaiah 42:1 - 4

 Linking here with Nacole at sixinthesticks for concrete words, where we seek to express the abstract by means of a concrete word prompt. Todays is:The Frame. You are very welcome to join in.

You can stay in touch with my posts by Google Friend Connect, following on Twitter or by liking my Facebook page.

Shades of purple

Life is rarely all (or even 50)shades of grey. We have a rich palette of experiences that colour our world with light, delicate hues or vivid shades that stain deep.

Purple is one of my favourite colours and it happens to be the one used to symbolise Fibromyalgia too.

For those with Fibromyalgia their world is pierced dark with unrelenting pain.

As an M.E/CFS sufferer I also have accompanying Fibromyalgia, (you can click here to find out what it is) which is sadly an all too common addition to our already depleting and debilitating symptoms.

It is Fibromyalgia Awareness Day in the UK on May 12th and this poem is written to honour the occasion.

Shades of Purple

Ringed black and blue

visible wounding

heavy bruised stain

seeping into skin

with tender throb of pain.

But you wound internal

pulsating deep

Fibro' fingers

prodding, poking, pain

that always lingers.

Morning stiff

to greet the dawn

making body stumble

movement slow

with risk of tumble.

Purple prose

swallowed down

as limbs grind painful

muscles sore, gait unsteady,

awkward, shameful.

Echoes of dark

bleeding out of day

escorting in the night

with sleep-elusive sigh

as body seizes tight.

Purple-coloured robes

draping royal and holy
  mantle of love

covering aches and pains

with grace from above.

Shades of purple

tinged with layers of faith,

bringing strength and healing

as God's heavenly light

shines with Hope revealing.
©JoyLenton2013

No matter how sick we may be there is always hope for improvement and healing.

Until that happens, we support and encourage one another as best we can.

A Prayer

Father, we struggle at times to endure
 hardship and pain that has no cure.

We long so much for it all to end,
  for relief to come, as we stoop and bend.

Grant us grace and strength to persevere,
continuing to know that You are so near
a simple heart's cry is already heard
even if we do not utter a word.
In the darkest nights we fail to rest
and have many days when we're far from our best.
Weakness and weariness play their part 
in bringing discouragement to make us lose heart.
Lift and encourage us when we feel sad 
during those moments when pain's really bad.
For you are the One who we turn to in need
and You help to heal and make all pain recede.
Thank you.
Amen.

To stay in touch with my posts you can join by Google Friend Connect, follow on Twitter or like my Facebook page. Thank you!

May God bless and give you His peace until we meet again.

Addicted to Comfort

Welcome to another foray into free-fall, free-flowing, straight from the heart, as-it-comes writing with Five Minute Friday.

Today's prompt is:'Comfort'

Start...

Comfort

We are addicted to comfort

security and safety hardwired into our systems

ease a priority

sought with urgency.

Solace-seeking in bottles, pills and potions

soothing fragrant oils and lotions.

We are addicted to comfort

loving our tribe

the ones we feel

comfortable with

our inner circles so tight

they are barriers to entry.

We are addicted to comfort

church has cliques

newcomers meet and greet

smiles exchanged

then we spend time

in the company of the familiar.

We are addicted to comfort

wanting life smooth, no rocks

no hard pathways to travel

or pain to endure.

We are addicted to comfort

feeling safe, secure 

in what we know

how we live

who we are.

Until...

God rocks our little boat

right out the water

tips us upside down

alters our worldview.

We are addicted to comfort

but it's not about us at all.

It's about leaning into Him,

learning, stretching, growing,

giving and pouring out

lives surrendered, given over;

abiding in the Vine

allowing Him to nourish, strengthen,

enable, equip,

freely received grace freely given

to the uncomfortable ones

who live with hope, expectancy

of seeing change

only God can bring.

Stop.

"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God" ~ 2 Corinthians 1:3 - 4

Linking here with Lisa-Jo Baker for Five Minute Friday. Do hop over and join in. You're very welcome!

To stay in touch you can subscribe by e-mail, follow on Twitter or like my Facebook page

On the Road

A road can be as long or short as our perspective of it.

Stretching on endlessly for miles or running out of path to tread before we know it.

Outside our home, the road was adjunct to playing space as we pushed prams full of dolls jostling within, roller-skated, hopscotched, twirled hoola-hoops, kicked, threw and caught a ball, hopped, skipped and jumped our way through childhood.

Only roads are potential death traps. I diced close once. Didn't know when to stop and look around me

Dashing behind ice-cream van, frozen spearmint lolly sticky-glued to hand, lip licking in anticipation, eyes peeled on the path ahead but forgetting my "look left, right, then left again, cross safely" mantra...a screech of brakes, scream, shout...body inert, curled up corpse-like into the kerb, blue-tinged lips, still and silent.

Father watching motor racing on TV could feel a heart-lurch recognition of danger, squeal of tires, noise, beyond the confines of the living room. He scooped me up from the gutter..pebble-dashed with gravel, blue lights and siren hovering into view. I remember nothing of that.

Only light searing eyes too sensitive to bear. Screams from my own throat as a cold-fingered, cold-hearted nurse bent to inject me. Drifting away for a while..

My looseness saved me as I fell to the ground. Innate ability to sit heavy on lap, snuggle in close for comfort craved so much. Collapsing sack-like kept me from cracking. No bones broken. Only concussion and badly grazed, scraped torn skin that wept yellow into bandage.

Bruised pride. Clumsy old me. All of six years old. Tears leaking afresh at the sight of torn dress, ruined beyond repair.

*********

On another road...

Father at the wheel of a lurching truck that swayed and swooped along the highway. 

We sat in designated seats. Toss of coin for squabbling sisters.

I won the front row. She was assigned mid-stalls on the rickety orange-box crates that covered and cushioned served as space to squat. Illegal really. Under-age. Unsafe.

But he was under-the-thumb with mum, who wanted us out-of-her hair, out of sight, out of mind. So we roamed the warehouse as he stacked and packed. Forty miles to the first port of call.

We sat. Me gloating smugly, she grumbling sisterly. Nearly where we needed to be when the sky fell in, or at least the window did. 

Sudden smash...shiny shards of glass collecting in my lap, splintered dust-size fragments coating everything and everyone, though I caught the brunt of it.

 

A road stabbing painful, red-blooded, broken. Father found a way to bring healing

A local cafe. Familiar faces. Regular watering-hole for him. 

We were clucked over, embraced gingerly, checked, cleaned, Savlon smeared, plastered up where necessary. Only tiny slivers. Don't worry. No real damage done.

It doesn't take much to splinter a life - a road can end as abruptly as it began

Memories: of warmth, care, soft drinks, sausage, eggs, bean and chips to comfort us, other children (her own), TV, outside play space, getting weary with waiting for the truck to trundle by and take us home.

Safe in Father's arms as we journey home

********

Roads can be dangerous places. Not all lead to Rome, romance, riches or restful lives

Travelling smooth until catastrophe strikes, chaos comes, circumstances collide.

Skies are stormy yet light still lingers in the distance, giving us hope of seeing change.

In taking the Road Less Travelled we experience problems, pain and hardship.

Accidents can derail us. Calamities come and we fall by wayside.

It's not a scenic route unless we learn to stop and enjoy the views.

The road ahead may be long, arduous and hard to climb, taking all our breath.

It narrows and constricts our fleshly desires then opens into a glorious vista of freedom.

The more we seek the Light, the more we see the way ahead.

Better to be on it than wayside dwellers, ease and comfort seekers who delve shallow and come up empty.

Better to seek His shelter than hide ourselves in gutter living.

In surrendering all to God we have a constant Companion on our journey.

Outpoured blood marks the path. Outpoured grace lights the way. Outpoured life leads us Home safe at last.

********

Linking here (later than intended due to laptop failure) with the lovely Nacole at sixinthesticks for Concrete Words. It's where we seek to write out the abstract with a concrete word prompt. This week's was 'The Road'. Do hop over and read the great posts there and add your own. 

                                                                                                        

To stay in touch you can subscribe by e-mail, follow on Twitter or 

by liking my Facebook page.

Have a heart

There are times in our lives when God speaks more insistently to our hearts than usual.

Those Holy Spirit whispers are words we need to pay attention to.

Our heart, as defined in Scripture, represents the core, essence of our being, the fabric of who we are and how we act, seat of our reason, courage, innermost feelings.

Recently, God has been showing me things about myself I would have preferred not to be aware of.

It all started with a devotional book I was reading that spoke of asking God to show us a picture of our heart.

This wasn't asking for an anatomical representation of the fist-shaped, blood-pumping organ that lies roughly in the centre of our chest.

No. It was seeking greater knowledge about what makes us tick, how we act and react and what that indicates about our inner being.

So, I braved the request, "Lord, please show me a picture of my heart"...and He did.

ImageCourtesyofFreeDigitalPhotos.Net

What He revealed was an image of a crushed, fragile, papery heart.

As I prayed, God showed me that this image represented the fragility of my feelings, how easily bruised and wounded I can be if I allow certain emotions to hold sway.

Discouragement reign supreme. Disappointment rule. Despair ravage my hopes and dreams.

" Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life" ~ Proverbs 4:23

His desire is for my heart to be crushed only with empathy and love for others, a willingness to burden-bear and intercede as His Spirit leads.

If I allow God to have my heart, He will guard it, make it strong and viable, rather than fragile and friable, soft and tender where it needs to be, as I open myself up to be a channel of blessing for others.

Our God does heart surgery as He transplants new hearts for old.

I was aware of the see-saw nature of my emotions and found much to blame them on:M.E fatigue, pain, lack of restful sleep, hormones, various issues etc.

God helped me see that a root of insecurity remains - the same root that made me want to control myself and my environment when all went haywire in my past.

All went haywire with my blogging yesterday too as I attempted to copy my last published post (ironically entitled 'Brave') into a folder and somehow ended up deleting the original as I updated it.

Don't ask me how. Technology and I are barely on speaking terms at the moment - more like screaming (me) and silence (laptop).

Deep breaths... Deep breaths....Gasp...Deep breaths.

What did this teach me?

• Back everything up, back everything up, back Everything up!!
• It doesn't help in the slightest to **@~##{{<< @ ~~ at the laptop (OK, just a little bit), keep pressing buttons and watch it all crash.
• It does help to...take deep breaths, step away from it, make a soothing cup of chamomile tea (or a stiff drink) and (most importantly) ask for help from Someone. Who. Knows. What. To. Do.
• When I'm, squeezed (pressed, stressed and tired)I fail to give off the aroma of Christ, emitting instead a bad stink of thoughts, words and deeds.
• We don't have to actively seek discouragement, disappointment or despair. They hang around waiting to drop on us and sabotage our days as soon as we drop our guards.

It also pays to remember that we are more than the sum of our parts or the efforts of our hands (said through gritted teeth and clenched jaw).

Neither is it really about tangible evidence in front of us or how congenial or otherwise our circumstances might be.

God's word reminds us that He is our Security. Safe place. Anchor for the soul. Always.

Sometimes it's hard to remember that in a world caving in and falling apart.

Sometimes it takes a glimpse into another person's pain to see how it overshadows your own.

Sometimes we lose what we value to gain a greater good.

My heart was setting too much store on achievement, approval, being visible when I feel invisible in this tiny sphere I move within.

But never invisible to God. 

The One who desires our highest good stands scalpel at the ready to carve away the dross we can do without and sculpt a heart fit for purpose.

God can take away a hard, stony heart and replace it with a tender, loving one..little by little..as it is surrendered to Him.

"I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh" ~ Ezekiel 36:26

A Prayer

Dear Father,

You alone know us inside out. Nothing about us surprises You.

It is easy to fool ourselves that everything is as it should be,

until You point a finger on the areas we need to pay attention to.

Then we wriggle and squirm under Your searchlight scrutiny.

For our souls lean more naturally into darkness than light.

But Yours is a laser-light to burn off the dross 
and promote healing.

You desire truth in the inner parts of our being.

You desire to change all that is displeasing to You.

Help us to co-operate and allow You to have Your way in us.

Melt our hard hearts.

Bind up the bruised and broken ones.

Wrap arms of love around the wounded ones.

Pour out Your grace and compassion.

Fill us with Your Spirit so that we can give out to others.

Remind us day by day how we are being changed from glory to glory

so that we do not lose heart if progress seems slow.

Thank you for the new heart and new life we have in Christ.

Help us to use it to live well for You.

Amen

Linking here with Tania Vaughan for Monday Ministry, where we seek to bring Sunday words and thoughts into the rest of the week.

To stay in touch you can join with me on Google Friend Connect, follow on Twitter or like my Facebook page.

May you be blessed with God's light, grace and peace (and a co-operative, fully functioning PC) until we meet again.