Sweet Light of Life

Sweet Light of Life

Sweet Light of Life 2791 1873 Sarah Rennicke

You saw it all.

You watched it unfold, the tiny corners of my heart begin to fall. You even coaxed me to trust You with the places where I was terrified. Said everything would be okay. And I, so hesitant and cautious. Fighting an exhausting battle to believe.

How I wanted to take You at Your word. But my heart not complying. Months of praying to breathe me to life. Months of death to the nth degree. Tear stained pillows. Hollowed heart.

We are such brittle creatures.

Why now, when I am finally beginning to feel the sun on my soul, would You lift me up just to fall? Stir my insides with signs of renewal only to tell me that the one tree in the garden I now desire I must not touch? Do not lead me to awaken my heart if these murmurs will never turn to spoken words.

You have whispered that You are gracious. Massaged it into the underside of my soul, where You long for me to see You in a new and deeper way. But do I want deep if it keeps plunging my heart to unspeakable depths?

Tell me what to do, Lord. I’ve steered to uncharted territory and my body and mind fight what You’ve been prodding because my heart is heading towards strong currents.

None of this makes sense. You cannot contradict Yourself. It is not in Your nature. But why would You lead me to open my heart and line me up with an impossibility, that I must fight to keep my heart closed?

You are good, and I want You to be. Can I entrust to You these unearthed emotions, the excitement of living in hope with the careful navigation of my want wrapped in Your holiness? Show me how You care for me. In the sincerest way possible. With matter of fact felt settled in my soul.

Can I entrust to You these unearthed emotions, the excitement of living in hope? @SRennAwake Click To Tweet

I’m poised on the precipice to fall back into the pulldown. Take my purple-pulled heart and cater to its tender places.

I am afraid I will not get what I desire. I desire what I want to be full of You. How could they ever be the same? You have a way of weaving wants and wills together.

I give those deep, precious places to You, so intimate I can hardly stand to name. I don’t see how I can align my heart, You, and my humanness. I know, I know, this life is not my own and You are God Almighty. But God Almighty, I don’t want what You want to be different than what my heart hopes for.

Somehow, when I am staring my deepest heart desires in the face, strangely I do not want to flee. Rather, I am ready to fight.

You come to me as I need. A subtle love that is consistent, gently showing care. I have been so skittish of love, but You, with Your early morning summer eyes and voice clear and smooth like my beloved Lake Michigan, You move me to unlock my heart and let in the sweet light of life.

It’s a tenuous turn within my heart, but steady as I am in Your light, I turn up to risk turning myself inside out to You, to see these tender spots within and trust that You take great care in filtering hope like dappled streams of sun.

 

 

“Arise, shine, for your light has come,
and the glory of the Lord rises upon you.”

-Isaiah 60:1

 

Sarah Rennicke

Sarah Rennicke loves words. She also loves people. And she loves weaving them together in honest and vulnerable ways. She loves slowing down and listening to the heartbeats of this world, exploring the hidden hopes and deepest fears tucked away in souls. She believes that God created imagination to truly see His handiwork, and that we are all desiring to be seen, known, and loved.

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