Burning Gardens

We danced in fields of red roses. You spun me in circles until laughter flooded my spirit... pouring out in visions laden with sunlight and grass as green as healing emerald. I knew not where we were going. I knew not what tomorrow would look like. But I trusted in the strength of your arms, and in my childlike hope, believed we'd forever dance in these fields....

But winter came. And red turned brown. And roses died. And we were left standing on only thorns. With bloody feet, I walked with you, though. Because I knew true love meant for better or worse. In pain we suffered together with nothing but the memory of summer to cling to. And with each step you promised spring, so I kept walking. And I am walking still. Waiting for the breeze to turn warm again...

They are pointing, laughing, staring, wondering why I chase you with these bloody feet and thorns. But I tell them I remember summer. And I remember fields of bright red roses. I remember the warmth I felt, our heart racing, beating as one... And I know that it must return. Because seasons have a way of changing... scars have a way of healing. I must believe we'll taste the salt of summer again. And I must believe that we will dance again in gardens sweetly smelling of moments more beautiful than any cut could be ugly.

You will return to me in a summer rain and show me that you never really left. You will prove to me that the cold was only distracting me. I am enduring winter for the hope of spring. But I can only endure it because you are beside me. I am walking on thorns, but believing I'm walking towards our roses once again... good things have a way of returning. And the best things make the worst no longer matter.

So in this winter, I will wrap you like a coat around my freezing shoulders, and I'll let you warm me with a fire of our dead roses. I will wait for the blazing sun of summer. I wait because I know it's coming. You're going to show me beauty once again, and these cold ashes will be forgotten.

Seeing Things Your Way

We asked you to show us your glory, but then I felt you say, "Share in my suffering." And I had to question if I still wanted to see your glory if suffering was the cost. We prayed for miracles, that you would empower us to pursue people, reach out, and impact lives. But then I felt you say, "it's going to hurt." And I know I have never liked pain.

I don't think I'm becoming negative. I am happy right now and I am ready to take part in the bigger picture and let you use me. But then what is this? I feel you telling me these thoughts aren't mine. I feel you telling me it's your perspective. It's prophetic.

Prophetic words aren't popular and they're not always easily accepted.... yes we want your glory and yes we want to see miracles. But are we willing to pay the price? Are we willing to face the suffering that may come? Are we willing to die for it?

What will it take to see you move?
And you told me, "The commitment to be available." I am going to be interrupted. My pretty, neat, color-coded schedule will be revised against my will. It will be inconvenient. It will take patience. Am I going to trust you when it gets difficult? Will I become a servant and put the needs of others above my agenda? I want to be willing to put my life on pause to see your kingdom come.
"The pinnacle of Christianity is not leadership, it's Me" I felt you urging me to tell them. And I realized how blessed I am to serve alongside people humble enough to seek You over their own glory. I know the humility and courage it is taking them to step down and draw closer to you. I know because it's the humility and courage I didn't have 2 years ago. I know how much you love them for this, dear one, and I pray they know it too. I want that kind of humility. I am reminded that what I am chasing is not a title, it's not a country, it's not a leadership position... it's You. I am chasing You, and my influence is directly proportional to the intentional time I devote to knowing You. Don't let me forget.

Redemption

Your sweet redemption is flooding my heart, inviting me back into the passions I've been stifling. You are reminding me of how faithful you are. I thought when I said yes to you ten months ago, that the door was slammed on my past and nothing from before you would matter in the slightest. I convinced myself that my past was erased entirely and non-existent. And while it's easier to believe that and just move forward, I realize it would be against your character not to give my past meaning.

And to do that, you must extract intricate pieces out of yesterday and make them good today; because you work all things for good to those who love you and who are called according to your purpose.

I thought my love for Africa was gone forever. I thought I could never serve you in ministry because I had blown it so badly before. I thought my failures in the past would determine my future. But you're reminding me that it has nothing to do with me at all.

"My word does not return void, Gabby."
I foolishly convinced myself that everything spoken over my life meant nothing because my heart was not yours.

"You may not have been mine yet, but I was still God then. And I'm still God now."

I am being given freedom to believe in the power of Your word. You said to ask for the nations and I did. But before I asked out of greed and pride. Now I ask in fear and trembling- brokenness- as I accept that I can do nothing.

It's been prophesied that I would have a 7-fold ministry, that I would be a "voice to the nations," that I would go to Africa and that hundreds of thousands would come to know you because of my testimony. You gave me a vision- you said "go" and I asked "where" until you showed me that small African hut and my heart heard you whisper Sudan.

All of that, and I still didn't call you Lord.
But that's the beauty of it. It has nothing to do with me at all.

It amazes me on one hand how you would still use me after the mistakes I've made. After all of the backsliding, all of the guilt, all of the lies and all of the decisions I could have made differently... You still look at me and say I can play a part in this redemptive story. But on the other hand, I realize this is just like you and I'm not surprised. The same way you used Peter and Paul, you are able to use me. You have always been in the business of taking what everyone has casted out and giving it purpose.

You are taking the foolish to confound the wise. You are calling the outcasts to bring a revolution. You are asking those who've hurt so many to be a vessel of hope and healing. I love your contradictions.

I'm humbled that you still see purpose where I see pointless.

I'm amazed that you still never call the able, but decide to enable the called.