The road is rougher than I expected. My heart has been broken, my body made weak, my passion stifled.
So why am I filled with joy?
Why is it now I find myself dancing in public? Turning up to church ridiculously early? Running with an energy and enthusiasm I naturally lack?
How is it that from the lowest low point in my life I find security in the one constant Constant?
The scars run deep, my wounds still bleed and are yet to fully mend. The soles of my feet are shredded from the roughness of the path I have been given to tread.
Why then do I hunger and thirst for more?
Why does my Spirit sing?
Why do I feel like I’m being shown who I am, when I thought I knew?
He knows His plans for my life.
He sees the potential for prosperity.
He sees the hope.
He sees the me I could be, the me He carefully crafted, the me He sang over from conception.
Not the me in my cave, bricking up the entrance and protecting my false hopes and dreams that bring no satisfaction…
He sees the real me.
And He wants the real me.
And He loves the real me.
And He adores the real me.
And, with my permission, He has torn my version into scraps, broken through the layers of defence, and shouted…
YOU ARE FREE!
So now I dance.
Tears of joy mingled with tears of pain. How could I hold on to so much rubbish for so long? How could I have missed out on so much?
The reply comes loud and clear, shouted at me in the most gentle of voices: “Don’t be afraid of missing out. You’re my dearest friend! The Father wants to give you the very kingdom itself.”
And so I dance.
I step into a new beginning.
I emerge, a creation of grace, knowing how much I have been forgiven, and ready to take leaps on the path before me.