The spongy little leaves keep popping out, the ones near the soil turning darker, even falling away. I positioned my mama’s broken pot in the direction of my gaze.
When I’m in between understanding and figuring out, I look over and let the void of not always knowing cause me to stop my circling back to self-condemnation.
I don’t understand words like “righteous” fully; I just know I’m not supposed to be self-righteous.
And I don’t really feel good enough to be called pure, I’m more prone to remembering my sins.
Yesterday, I had a chance to sit with someone and talk about being “righteous”.
We talked of tainted pasts and ideas about ourselves shouted loudly from the mouths of others.
I had my Bible and she asked to hold it.
Her hands reached softly, she opened and turned the thin pages with a sweet respect and she noticed the margins, the place where I let my mind unravel, the place where it’s clear I believe.
Her hands moved sweetly over the pages, she sighed “oh” or “so beautiful”, the sketches and my scribbling.
It was a quiet time, unrushed, a beautiful exchange.
Is there need for any more than that?
Than more of moments like these, when I listen to the Spirit nudging me to do something unexpected, to sit with another and talk about my long and winding path to believing I am loved by God?
To do so without long discussion, debate or standing up high on my pedestal to say “this is how it’s done! “?
Because, if I’m honest I’m still learning to rest there myself, believing unwavered.
The little succulents in the broken pot are a miracle really. Finicky little species of plant, they’re best left untended.
Too much water, they drown. Too much shade, they wither. Too much sun, or not warmth from sun in just the right time, the thick leaves fall from the stem that is meant to nourish.
I started with two plants; now, there are five. My mama’s broken pot with birdnest and a feather, now like a shady forest.
The petals that broke away finding soil again, growing on their own amongst the others.
This morning, I went back to questioning my righteousness, unable to fathom ever calling myself pure or noble or upright.
Those labels make no sense to me, I am pondering. I am searching for understanding and I am praying.
Make things clear for me. Be near so that I will know the nearness of you and
I’ll not need to look for you in the
Measurement of me.
Then I turned to Romans, because my read through the Bible guide directed me there, no other reason other than I tend to follow rules.
I saw the margin, recognized my hand there:
The words I’d written “life and peace” and the underlined verses that told me how and why.
“For to set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace.”
Romans 8:6 ESV
To rely on me for my growth, for where I may be planted is futile. To be so very close to God, it’s oh, so mysteriously unfathomable at times, is really not so complex at all.
Grow where He has me, where he plants me, gives opportunity to bloom again after growing brittle or withered, weary.
To live by the Spirit is to absorb His word and to be less driven towards my part in this life lived by faith,more willing and surrendered to allow His Spirit to be my guide.
Guiding me to places like my Bible in the lap of another and a quiet conversation about why I believe in Jesus.
Not because of the scary preacher who called me “Sinner” but, because of a gentler Spirit, the Holy One.
“No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee today at Tell His Story. Read this really beautiful piece about sitting alongside others and being kind: http://jenniferdukeslee.com/best-thing-can-4th-july/