I’m not calling you because you’re perfect, I’m calling you because I am. I am not here to shame you into discipline. I want you to follow me out of your own free will.
I make kings out of shepherds. Leaders out of murderers. Mothers out of barren women. Hope out of crosses.
I am not calling you because I think you, alone, are qualified for the job. I am asking you because, with me, you have all the qualifications you will ever need.
You need not seek other’s approval because this task I am asking of you does not depend on them. I am asking you not to shine by yourself, but to reflect me. I am not asking you to just talk about my goodness, peace, and hope but for them to see that in you, provided by me alone. Your job isn’t to be the best, your job is faithfulness. Your job is surrender.
I have made you weak, so I can be strong.
I have had you walk through those woods, so you can show how I got you out.
If you keep putting it off, if you keep wanting to feel more prepared or more ready, what you’re really doing is delaying faithfulness. Delaying being obedient. If you want clearer answers, you have to go back.
Back to the time where it all fell apart for you. Back to those emotions, those physical aches, those nights where I met you at your darkest. You have to go back.
Going back this time won’t be as painful because you go not to feel the despair all over again, but to see my hand in it all. When you’re in the storm you can barely see through the clouds. You can hardly see those who held the umbrella for you, the trees that were provided for safety, the times where the storm let up for a little bit. Then you were focused on survival. Now you are focused on my glory.
Go back to where the first weight hit your heart. Go back to that night where it all fell apart and look around. Look for my hand, my fingerprints, where I shined my grace and peace to you in ways you had never experienced before.
And that’s where you start and that’s where you end: me.
I am not calling you because you’re a survivor, but because you’re still struggling. I am not pursuing you because you’re independent; but because you’re still dependent. You still fall. You still cry out in dark nights.
People can’t relate to perfection and platforms nearly as much as they can stub toes and broken hearts. However, I ask for those as an offering. An offering to me, who can bind up both bleeding toe and aching heart.
Use what I have given you for my glory and you’ll be amazed at what happens next.
