Somewhere between downloading Pancake Makers for Leah, chasing Leighton and folding never-ending laundry I sit on my bed to read a post waiting in my inbox.
(Was that a run-on sentence? I don’t think I care. Did I mention the running, climbing, sometimes fit-pitching toddler girl? Smile.)
I end up reading about why this writer blogs. She begins with the fact that on a particular day she would cross the threshold of 100,000 readers.
I can’t even read past it without stopping to roll my eyes.
But then my heart squeezes tight in my chest.
After telling Leah she cannot have anything else from the kitchen right now, I let the words bubble out…
Either You are going to reveal Yourself or myself to me.
See, in any given situation…especially eye-roll inducing ones…the real deal is about me. Either God wants to speak to me about Himself or He is allowing me to see a bit more of myself.
I’ll give you this…it’s a tough pill to swallow.
I enjoy her style and wit and the whole point of her post ends up really touching my heart.
Regardless of numbers and even beyond readers…she sees her writing as an act of worship. She can’t sing. Can’t play an instrument. But she can write.
I get this. My eye-rolling heart is softened and remembers David.
At the end of 2 Samuel he wants to buy a threshing floor so he can build an altar for an offering to God. The owner of the floor, Araunah, exuberantly offers to give it to the king.
But the king said to Araunah, “No. I’ve got to buy it from you for a good price; I’m not going to offer God, my God, sacrifices that are no sacrifice.”
2 Sam 24:24-25 (the message)
Writing is one of the ways I worship. It’s the one thing I know for sure He placed within me. I could never, ever conjure up the flow of words or even this desire to share my struggles on my own.
But it’s not casual.
I’m learning how the cost…the repeated raking over my heart and soul…is where the sacrifice in my worship lies.
I know the weight of words.
I know the heart-pounding cadence of unspoken accusation.
I know the shift that can happen in relationships.
I know it’s hard to worship unapologetically.
Sometimes I’m gasping for air in the middle of this cost. This moving ahead anyway. This daring to become and follow and explore outside of the ways I’ve always been known and understood.
All the while imperfect and amazed by grace and possibility.
Not in numbers or met goals or specific plans, really.
The possibility of living authentically. Being myself even as that self changes. Experiencing life on His terms without allowing my worship to diminish.
I’m just a girl.
And this is what I have in my hands.
So I keep offering and He keeps replacing and I don’t think I could stop and ever be the same.
The ultimate challenge for a just-plain-girl who likes to make people happy…
There are times worship and becoming requires you to stretch and move and your elbows and knees get in the way. You bump into people and jostle things around. Even when you don’t mean to.
Maybe you really get me today…my eye-rolling, tearful acceptance.
Sometimes it’s hard to give. To worship. To offer our truest selves to Jesus.
May I encourage you? Because I’ve been encouraged?
Jesus treasures your worship. Your willingness to break and give and endure is never wasted or puny.
Sometimes it’s in the cost…this spilling of our fear and apprehension…facing discomfort and unease…that our giving truly becomes meaningful worship.
Will we trust ourselves to a Creator Who paints the night sky with a zillion stars and yet comes close enough to hear us breathe?
Will we waste ourselves for the Darling of Heaven Who came close enough to endure the Cross?
Will we eventually come close enough to see our cost as worship?