Erosion

Today, I stood on the back porch watching the rain pour down. I thought about going back inside, but the music on my phone and the tiny gifts falling from the sky were too much for me to resist. I found myself grappling with the big lie.. the Big Lie that creeps into my head sometimes, mostly as a question... What if? What if I can't have children?

And the carousel starts to spin. Around and around, up and down, and totally pointless.

Except for today. I was sopping wet. Water dripped from me as if God Himself had taken the form of rain just to hold my hand. My headphones blared as the rain came harder.

“My hands, my feet, my everything. My life, my love, Lord use me.”

The cry of my heart.

It was then that I remembered that not so long ago, my heart had a different cry. It called to God, “Lord, give me this gentle and quiet spirit that You value so highly.” I thought it would be an overnight change. I thought it would be like breaking up with a not-so-good-for-me boyfriend, or deciding to major in literature. I thought it would come quick and easy.

But it hasn't. It couldn't possibly. A gentle, quiet spirit isn't a building up. It's a wearing down. It comes after a long life of constant wrestling and worrying and pounding on the heart of God. It comes when all of your own strength fails beneath your weight and all that is left to do is fall at His feet.

Sarah is the one that 1 Peter 3 was referring to when it spoke of having a “gentle, quiet spirit.” It says that we can be her daughters if we do what is right and do not give way to fear. I am slowly but surely coming to an understanding of why God said this. Fear is the opposite of this spirit. It worries and frets and manipulates and becomes selfish and embittered.

Sarah didn't really have an easy life. She followed her husband, regardless of where God told him to go. She was barren. She waited a long time for her heart's desire of a son... probably more than 70 years. But she believed. She submitted. She might have become jaded and sarcastic at times, but she never threw in the towel. She always pressed forward in faith.

Her trials wore her away. They eroded everything that was not faith. It was those long, steady years of uncertainty, and sometimes pain, that created that gentle, quiet spirit in her. A gentle, quiet spirit that looked at God and said, “Wherever You take us, You are the Lord.”

I asked God to show me what He is doing, and I see... like the blind beggar, I see. He is wearing me down. He's slowly giving me that gentle, quiet spirit that I asked for. He might not be doing it the way I expected, but the only thing for me to do is trust that He is Who He says He is, and He will do what He said He'll do.