Thursday, August 30, 2012


About a month ago, give or take a few weeks, I sat in the smack middle of a river of unknown-ness.  I was being washed over and felt myself drowning in the uncertainty and helplessness of it all.  The entire situation so far outside of my influence I could literally do nothing but pray.  Long.  And hard.  With urgency and fervor and reverence that has been so lacking of late in my audience with the Almighty.  Not that intimacy nor familiarity are bad in and of themselves; quite the opposite, in fact.  Jesus calls his followers friends and God’s desire is a deep, intimate relationship with each one of us.  However, my summer has been the fisheye lens of Job-esque reverence.  The absolute need to recognize exactly who is sovereign over my circumstance.

It was then that the kids had gone over the mountains and through the woods; the Officer was in the forest, unreachable and distant.  And I was quite alone, with the exception of my blind lab-velcro-ador.  And God.  Through this repast, I came to a place of genuine listening; not my typical, I’m going to toss up what I need for the day and hope the answer either falls into my coffee cup or literally opens my bible and yells directly at me mode of “hearing from God.”  I really listened; because, quite frankly, it was all I could do.  The house was hauntingly quiet; and I was suffocating under a veil of forced silence.

I had a Jerry Maguire moment; the this-isn’t-a-memo-it’s-a-mission-statement kind.  In the pressing quiet, I penned a personal manifesto.  A new mode of being who I am, with a right focus, and intentional purpose.  A way of living that would be completely different from the way I was surviving.  I typed it out.  I artfully placed it in my journal.  I read it every day the kids and Officer where gone.  And upon their return, I promptly fell back into routine.  Not all the way back, mind you; but far enough that I’d forgotten most of what I’d written.  I had the principles, the ghosts of the ideas, floating about.  But with the distractions that come with family and decisions and these situations overtaking my days, I lost what I had so vehemently purposed just a few weeks prior.

But God’s timing is always perfect.  I was thumbing back through my journal today; and there it was, as artfully displayed as ever.  And the words shone with new intensity, particularly in light of this week.  You see, dear reader, while you are reading this installment on Thursday, I am writing it on Monday (no, not future Monday… Monday past).  I know this week will require more prayer than before; more energy, more attention.  Thus I’m writing to you in anticipation of what’s coming.   [And if you know me, then you know how out of character planning is.]  I will be taking these next five weeks (the Tuesdays and Thursdays thereof) to share with you my manifesto for my new life.   My outline for a life in Christ that is honoring to God, compassionate towards others, grounded in Scripture, girded with prayer, and centered on Jesus Christ.
Join me, won’t you?  My prayer is that you might also be blessed with a renewal of spirit, find ways to apply my lessons to your life in Christ.  Perhaps even discover that you’re not as alone in your struggles as you think.  And pen your own manifesto in the process. 

For now, dear one, I will share with you the first line of my manifesto, that you might know my heart:

I am a new creation in Christ. 

The old has died and the new has come. 

I commit to walking obediently and faithfully

in my new identity

as Beloved,

as Chosen,

as Daughter.



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