Thurs, Feb 4, morning
Seems like the higher the summits I reach, the deeper the valleys—I always have to come back to the bottom, to my core, to the same deep pit I started from.
Colorado valley, with steep mountain walls reaching both low and high.
The valley floor is still a mile high.
The better part of the next hour is spent reading the Bible, praying, and seeking understanding for a piece to be written for Bullets & Butterflies. I leave the prayer closet for an interruption, then wander into the bedroom and sink down into a chair. I feel tired.
You're not a genie I can just call up on demand. I need You to talk to me. I don't seem to be hearing Your voice.
You know where to find Me.
I go back to the prayer closet. I'm trying to pray but feel like I'm wandering in circles through clouds.
You're hard to hear.
You're hard to listen.
More mental wandering.
You give and take away. It’s hard when You take away.
Isn’t what I give back always better?
It’s all a muddle right now, a mess.
I like to clean up messes. I chose you, didn't I?
That's not funny. I feel like all I'm hearing is my own voice. If You want me to blog prayer I need to hear from You. And if it's not going to sound contrived, I need to hear what wouldn't come from me.
This is not a game.
(I sit quietly a while, feeling chastised for being demanding. Then I pray for spiritual protection, and intercede for others.)
Me (an hour later, while in the car, thinking about this blog):
I don't want to be embarrassed to have started something I can't follow through on.
It isn't about them. It's about Me. You pay closer attention to Me now. You listen more carefully for My voice.
You had me do a blog so I'd listen better?
Whatever it takes.
Argh! [pause] You’re being hard on me.
You can take it. I’m in you.