This morning my husband told me to read Romans 8. Seems like a simple, easy task. I came in from dropping the older two off at their proper destinations, on time of course, which means that when I returned home the tornado of distraction was all around me. Things out of place, dishes in the sink, beds unmade, laundry everywhere. But I was determined to spend time with Him. I straightened the living room up, popped in a movie for the 3rd born and nursed the babe to sleep. I sat down with my Bible, pen and journal ready to hear from my Father who I desperately needed to be loved on by today.
Then it happened. The life that surrounds me daily. The life that I love, the life that I call my own, but the life that is really hard sometimes. The door slams, the baby wakes up, the movie gets jammed from little fingers in the DVD player, the tot falls off the chair trying to reach the legos that she could swallow and before you know it I have read Romans 8 twice with absolutely no idea what it says, and the only scribble in my journal was that of my toddler when she saw mommy had a pen.
I got up and I acted like the very storm around me. I called my husband in tears, I sent out a text to my best friend in frustration and I slammed the bouncy seat (with no baby) down on the table and screamed out “WHERE ARE YOU, LORD!?!?” with tears streaming down my face. As soon as the words left my lips, I heard in my spirit, “I am right HERE with you.”
Calmness began to happen even though I still had tears rolling down my face. I was still frustrated. I was still asking. I was still mad. But I felt calmer. I laid down the idea of a quiet time, turned on worship music and began my daily duties that I do every. single. day.
As I made my bed, I was asking myself why I became so upset. It’s not like the babies planned to ruin mommy’s time with the Lord. They were just doing their job, just as I am supposed to do mine. But why did it have to be so hard? I was then drawn to the thoughts I had just prior to sitting down with my Bible in hand.
This morning when I awoke, I checked Instagram. It was flooded with bloggers who were sitting down with Jesus. Except what was captured in their picture looked so very different than what was found in my viewfinder. There was no coffee with a pretty cup or cozy cute socks over looking a beautifully decorated and clean kitchen. There was no pretty doodling in my journal or a smell good candle burning in the background. The view I had around me was not Instagram worthy. Or was it?
How many times do we set ourselves up for failure by setting expectations that God never intends for us to set. He sets the bar for our lives and too many times we allow comparison to raise that bar to heights and places that He never intended for us to go. We want things to be perfect. We want them documented in our social media and our minds as the perfect scenario and that we have it all together. But really we are one big mess. Waiting for a Savior to come and speak to us as we slam down the bouncy seat in pure frustration. It was when I came to the end of myself that I heard His voice. It was when I lost control of my flesh, laid it all down before Him in my own childish ways that His spirit came in, just like any Good and Loving Father and He took my hand and said I AM HERE, My Daughter. I am with you.
My time with Him may not be Instagram worthy. But I am ok with that because it’s real. I am learning that I must recognize my season, just as much as I must recognize the storm that it sometimes brings. That yes, things are sometimes chaotic right now and I am running on coffee fumes, but He is still here. He is here in the mundane. He is here in the bed making and the diaper changing. He is here with me.
After putting the babe in the swing, making the bed and fixing the dvd player, I sat. I sat with my computer, writing this blog with worship music playing in almost silence. My 3rd born danced in front of the TV and my baby smiled at me from across the room. It took this reckless morning of raw emotions to bring me to this point. The point of peace. The Instagram worthy moment. The moment when I realized that this is what it’s about. The moments in life when you recognize that this life we call our own, really isn’t ours to begin with. That we belong to Him and He loves to allow us to be comforted by Him. He loves when we lay ourselves down to be wrapped in His love.
Maybe I just needed to write these words for myself. Maybe for my future self when I slam down another piece of furniture in frustration. Or maybe for someone else out there who is experiencing the frustration of His silence. He is with you. He loves you and He is waiting for you to lay it down at the feet of Jesus in pure surrender that you cannot do it all. The comparison is the thief of all joy and you must recognize the storm that surrounds you.
Peter, he knew and recognized the storm surrounding him but yet he still got up and walked on water to be with his Savior. Peter’s faith allowed him to take the first few steps, but then the wind began to overwhelm him and his flesh became weak and flooded him with doubt of what God could do. He then called out to Jesus in despair. And just as Jesus always does, He reached out his hand to Peter. And together they walked on water through the storm.
I felt like Peter this morning. I tried, I failed, I became overwhelmed and He rescued me. Again. And always.
Recognize your storm and then have the courage to reach out for His hand to help you through it.
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