i have been fighting it. well, maybe fighting it isn’t the right word.
i, of all people, am intimately acquainted with it. it is very much a part of my spiritual journey. i see and can understand its value. how imperative it has been for my growth… as a human. as a woman. as cindy.
“I am just like you before God; I too have been taken from clay…,” so said Job.
but i’m tired of it. i’m just flat out weary. i don’t want to embrace it this time. i want to run away or ignore it. i want to pretend that it doesn’t have to be a part of my life anymore. that i’ve gone through enough and i’ve paid my dues. i want to just keep on doing my thing, being a part of where He’s going and what He’s up to without …
steeling. that’s what i’ve been doing. steeling myself against Him.
against the Hands that continue to mold and shape. steeling against the strategic way they sculpt and pull at the clay.
and then the kneading back into a formless lump in order to start over.
my heart hurts. and my body aches. and my mind is going a million miles an hour.
but how does one rest in the midst of the formation?
its in the silence – the stillness – that my chest feels the most heavy. laden with…
I AM… the potter.
that means that i am clay.
He has stopped kneading. there is no pulling. no forming. no sculpting.
because i’m steeling myself against the Hands. no more, i say.
and so He waits. patiently. sitting on His haunches. waiting for me to once again let down my guard.
to let Him into the wounded places. the broken places.
to knead. to form. to build.
the question for me is, “am i ready? will i let Him?”
i want to. and that’s all i’m capable of today.
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