Free // Completely Done

The birds are calling back and forth to each other, in the late morning air. Summer wind brushes gently across my skin and ruffles pages of the living Words in my hands. These Words are more precious to me than anything. You are alive and speaking to me still.
 

"And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?" ~Matthew 6:27

    It doesn't profit anything, or even prepare me for what's to come. You are in control and what is going to be will be, without my nerves wondering if it will come to pass or not. 

    How can these living Words be life in me, taking effect? Here's all my cares, take them. Fill me up with You and empty me of myself. I just want to live fully, trusting You entirely, but this blockage of fear is standing in my way and I can't seem to see over that wall. 

    Every thought of mine should radiate Your sovereignty, I've not been given a spirit of fear, but a spirit of life and of peace. 

    

"Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble." ~Matthew 6:34

    It must look so silly to You, from a perfect perspective, me, with hurts so unnecessary. You came down to save me out of this fear and here I am, drinking from the polluted well once more. 

    I'm tired of subjecting myself to this bondage that You've already freed me from. Enough is enough. Take my worry. You are in control and I want to trust You, but I need Your truths to be fresh in me constantly, reminding me that what You complete is completely done. 

"For freedom Christ has set us free; stand firm therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery." ~Galations 5:1

Everything

It was like fire, swimming and singing inside of my soul, the kind that burns without leaving scars. It was like sunshine at it's best hour, kissing the song of the morning with hopes brand new. It was like running with strength that could never be spent, because it was not my own.
    So why did I try to handle those flames on my own terms, when I knew they'd only leave marks inside my chest? Why did I close my eyes to the sunlight, pretending Your Words were a silhouette, burnt out to only me? Why did I look away, put my eyes on the sea I was running on? I knew I'd sink in, just like Peter did.
    The truth is I wasn't scared and that's what scares me most. I thought I'd be able to make it a few steps on my own. You got me that far, I thought I could take it from there. Distractions were piling up and I started creating excuses, little white lies that flowed rapidly through my subconscious. Then it became clear to me, I was handling the wrong kinds of fire. Those little waves that I thought to be so innocent were creeping up on me from behind, growing stronger as I continued to sink, now neck deep in my own mess of excuses. The morning was as night to me, I was deaf to the sound of birds calling, blind and numb to the light that leaked it's way onto my skin. I couldn't feel You or see You anywhere and for the first time in too long, I asked for a rescue.
 

Sometimes in order to see past confusion, we have to stop looking to ourselves for answers. I guess I see that now, clearer than I'd like to admit. I was ridiculous, hands practically peeled to my face trying to walk on water without You.
    I'm thankful for that gentle whisper that said, "Enough. I need to be your everything." Without that little shove, I may never have seen things right. Sometimes we all lose sight of what's important and that's not okay at all.

Reach

Somewhere planted deep beneath the stone, the shell, is a softness that keeps on pounding, burning and asking me to stand. I'd rather sit tight though, forget and just give in, accept the thoughts that don't necessarily need to be.
    It's like there's this battle going on in the quiet and normalcy of everything. I want to just breathe and pretend that the strain of doing so isn't there, but it is there and I'm wondering if or when it will ever go away.
    It's not what's gone that brings me down, but all that it represents. It means that because I've fallen this time, this many times, that I'll always be too tired to try again, but I've still got this thing here, this wanting to start all over again and give it everything I've got.
    I've pushed this thing back so far on the shelf that my arms have grown so sore, it's like they've stretched from all this effort and now I hurt from pushing it out of hurting range. I'm sitting here now, smiling to myself and entertaining ideas that I never even thought possible. Something dawns on me now, the reality of it all. If these arms could extend far enough to push it to where it is, then surely they must be able to reach far enough to pull it back, that burning beating, feeling, part of me that I've always been so scared to share. I'm at peace right now, but when the time is right I'm going to stand. I'm going to reach.