Deep Chords. His Song. Exposing the Lie of Outward Appearances.

He strums.  As I flop down with a bag of stuff.  I found real cheap.  One the east side.

These days. My body lagging behind.  Paces behind where I want to be.

Doctor directing me. To find answers.  But, I have fought this thorn for far too long.  The one reminding me that I am only human.  Keeping me.  Humble.  Working double time.  Insisting.  I slow down.

Still, I refuse to let doctors.  Sickness.  Fear.  Dictate what I do.  I am well aware of deliverance ministry.  And I know if God wants to.  He can heal me.  In an instant.

Still, we are not The Miracle Maker, just a vessel being used.  

And if God allows my vessel to continue leaking.  I will thank Him.  As this song.  This melody of my life.  Continues.

The song of these cracks of grace…..simply helping me.  Identify with those I long to pour my life out onto. 

And though my body may halter, my spirit surges forward. Forward in prayer. ….Forward towards whatever He has for me. Cheerfully.

For we don’t create the song of our salvation.  We just sing it.  Embracing notes.  The lyrics of whatever chorus He places before us.

Yes, I refuse to let fear strike me.  As I listen to my son play Holy-like on his strings upstairs.

High. Low. High Low.  Notes continually flowing like the strums of life we all must surrender to…..

The rhythm of The Music Maker.

How ironic.  This upside-down living.  This, what-you-see-isn’t-what-you-get kind of living.

And until Jesus delivers me from this infirmity……or takes me to that glorious reward of being with Him……

I will not stop.  Sharing who He is.  And what I was.  And what He has done for me.

Through these cracks. He somehow uses, to make a song.  The one He sings with a grace-like-hum, over all His people.

For what really matters, is not what we feel.  Not what we are going through.  But whether or not we will love with  His impassive, unstoppable, verb-like love.  Love overflowing from what He has done.  

And whether we will press on, to be like Him.  Simply.  Loving.  People.

So, in this.  I pray continually.  Pouring out this broken body.  Refusing to sit sulking.  Like Paul.  Rejoice in my suffering.  Because it’s here in this debilitated place….Jesus is alive.  I feel Him most closely.  My ears get tuned to what really matters.  It is in this song He has chosen for me.  I most hear Him.

My son still strumming.  Life.  And then, I begin to hear him.  Singing this song of redemption….As if waking a generation. To what it really means to be born again. And how that might not look.  Exactly like we have been taught.

• Maybe sancticifation is found not in the high chords, but deep in the song of salvation. 
• Maybe living for Him correlates with suffering for His Kingdom.  
• Maybe plowing ahead requires soil to be tossed.  Hard ground to be pried up.  And sometimes that happens through hardships.  Difficulties.

Yes, maybe the Song of Redemption looks different than we think.

Maybe embracing Jesus.  Requires deep notes.  Joyously strumming, together with the sweet.  A beautiful combination.  Combining what He is creating….

Drawing us to a hope.  In a Savior.  To His song….

Regardless of outward appearances.

(Linking with Barbie)