And he arose, and rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea, Peace, be still. And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm. Mark 4:39 KJV
Each day I spend most of my waking hours in a sea of challenging people, events, and circumstances. Bobbing in these uncharted waters I am reduced to acting and reacting, planning, responding, and deciding. My journey is directed by two competing forces: the flesh (my mind, will and emotions) and the Word, my navigation manual that tells me God’s plan for getting safely to shore.
I may have notebooks full of proof that the Word does not fail me but that doesn’t matter much when new storm clouds appear. Because long before I could read or understand the
Word I had already learned to depend on the responses and reactions of my flesh to get my way, to get me through. I had already tasted the sweet taste of revenge, manipulation, rage, worry, rudeness, tantrums, striking out, despair, withholding, speaking my mind, telling you off, and telling your dirt. Tricks I have learned from my mother, things I have learned from my father, tactics I developed to get you get you off my back. Like an addict I still lust for the relief and release those old potions offered me, fleeting though it may be. The angry tongue of my flesh licks at me like the flames of a great fire.
But God who holds me in the palm of his hand whispers “Try it my way, seek my peace, taste and see.” Sweetly he woos me and so I reply, “Show me, Lord. Show me how. Show me again for my memory is so short.”
And in this wretched condition I cannot hide away, cover myself, avoid the bright lights that might reveal my weaknesses. No. In this shameful state I am required to teach and guide others.
©Tina Green 2010
Each day I spend most of my waking hours in a sea of challenging people, events, and circumstances. Bobbing in these uncharted waters I am reduced to acting and reacting, planning, responding, and deciding. My journey is directed by two competing forces: the flesh (my mind, will and emotions) and the Word, my navigation manual that tells me God’s plan for getting safely to shore.
I may have notebooks full of proof that the Word does not fail me but that doesn’t matter much when new storm clouds appear. Because long before I could read or understand the
Word I had already learned to depend on the responses and reactions of my flesh to get my way, to get me through. I had already tasted the sweet taste of revenge, manipulation, rage, worry, rudeness, tantrums, striking out, despair, withholding, speaking my mind, telling you off, and telling your dirt. Tricks I have learned from my mother, things I have learned from my father, tactics I developed to get you get you off my back. Like an addict I still lust for the relief and release those old potions offered me, fleeting though it may be. The angry tongue of my flesh licks at me like the flames of a great fire.
But God who holds me in the palm of his hand whispers “Try it my way, seek my peace, taste and see.” Sweetly he woos me and so I reply, “Show me, Lord. Show me how. Show me again for my memory is so short.”
And in this wretched condition I cannot hide away, cover myself, avoid the bright lights that might reveal my weaknesses. No. In this shameful state I am required to teach and guide others.
©Tina Green 2010
