My soul feels raw.
As if it had been drug down a carpeted hall at break-neck speed.
that hurts, hints, points, and practically begs to be noticed.
Oh, but I am too busy.
I have children to feed, to wash, to get ready for school, to keep in line, to encourage, to exhort, to teach, to mentor…
I have a husband to please, to help, to encourage, to exhort, to submit to….
I have a house to clean, laundry to wash and fold and put away, dishes to wash, groceries to buy, work to do, bills to pay…
And the raw-ness gets drier and itchier and more irritating.
Soon I feel a ticking time bomb waiting for the next thing to set me off.
A question repeated over and over,
a tapping on my leg,
an ill-timed temper tantrum,
the perfect whine,
any of a million tiny things that could change me
from mommy-the-sweet to mommy-the-monster.
Instead of taking the time to allow God to soothe the rawness, instead of hiding in the bathroom to pray, or singing a song of praise, I become the martyr.
“I don’t have time for me,” my flesh cries out.
“If they could just leave me alone for a second I could think,” I storm and pout.
My soul’s rawness is pointing. It is pointing to sin I don’t want to deal with. It is a gaping chasm that needs to be filled with Him. It is my soul’s hunger for the bread of life.
Yet my Bible lies untouched,
my mind leaves locked the Words of life tucked away in my heart,
my eyes look to what is not and should be rather than what my Savior has done for me.
Then He is there. His words echo, “Do you want to get well?”
Oh those words burn, but they also bring hope. If only I am willing to go through the proper treatment for my raw and painful heart, I could be healed.
The treatment is painful.
It involves pruning,
shedding of what was for what will be,
dying to myself in order to live for Him,
resting in His plan instead of my own.
Father God, I want to be healed. Soothe my painful soul. Help me to rest in You. I submit to Your treatment for my flesh. Help me to want to get well. In Jesus’ name I pray. Amen.
Now the question remains, do you want to get well?
By Angela Mackey, Rethinking My ThinkingLeave a Comment