I heard this song for the first time today. But, its message resonates deeply with lessons the Lord has been teaching me about Himself and His provision in my life.
Song: Already all I need
Artist: Christy Nockels
Album: Into the glorious
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Asking where You are Lord, wondering where You've been
Is like standing in a hurricane trying to find the wind
And hoping for Your mercy to meet me where I am
Is forgetting that your thoughts for me outnumber the sand.
You filled the sun with morning light
You bid the moon to lead the night
You clothe the lilies bright and beautiful.
You're already all I need
Already everything that I could hope for
You're already all I need
You've already set me, already making me more like you
You're already all I need
Jesus, You're already all I need.
Walking through this life without your freedom in my heart
Is like holding onto shackles, that You have torn apart
So remind me of your promises and all that You have done
In this world I will have trouble, but You have overcome
And every gift that I receive, You determine just for me
But nothing I desire compares to You
You're already all I need
Already everything that I could hope for
You're already all I need
You've already set me, already making me more like you
You're already all I need
Jesus, You're already all I need.
In your fullness, You're my all in all
And in your healing, I'm forever made whole
And in your freedom, Your love overflows and carries me
You carry me, yes You carry me, You carry me
You're already all I need
Already everything that I could hope for
You're already all I need
You've already set me, already making me more like you
You're already all I need
Jesus, You're already all I need.
Already all I need
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Tuesday, March 05, 2013
You Can't Skip to Fine
I'm grieving.
I could use a less dramatic sounding term, but it would not fully encapsulate the truth.
The church that I have loved and poured myself out for in the last three years will have its final worship service in two weeks, and I am grieving.
I am grieving that it won't ever be all that I dreamed it would be.
I am grieving that I won't have a place to belong on Sunday mornings for a while.
I am grieving that, right or wrong, it feels like all that I invested of myself is lost.
I am grieving that God chose to answer my prayers differently from what I hoped.
I am grieving the friendships and relationships that have been lost, strained, or broken.
I am grieving.
And, as you know, grief is unpredictable and irrational. It strikes unexpectedly, rolls over you like a tidal wave knocking you off your feet, doubles you over like a sucker punch to the gut at an unanticipated trigger. It ruins the carefully painted mask you wear. It steals the words right out of your mouth.
You want to know what I hate most about grief? You can't skip to fine. I know I will be fine, but I'm not today. I know that one morning, I'll wake up and it won't hurt as bad. I'll make it an entire week without crying about it. I'll remember with a smile, not sadness, and I'll begin to see fruit coming from what I thought was a barren crop. I will be fine.
But, I can't skip to fine.
Fine is on the other side of the mountain, and the only way over it is one step at a time. So, I'm praying for wisdom on the way. To harvest every possible lesson. To find every hidden blessing. To bear the soul markings of this journey gracefully. To walk gently with others whose grief is the same yet wholly different.
I could use a less dramatic sounding term, but it would not fully encapsulate the truth.
The church that I have loved and poured myself out for in the last three years will have its final worship service in two weeks, and I am grieving.
I am grieving that it won't ever be all that I dreamed it would be.
I am grieving that I won't have a place to belong on Sunday mornings for a while.
I am grieving that, right or wrong, it feels like all that I invested of myself is lost.
I am grieving that God chose to answer my prayers differently from what I hoped.
I am grieving the friendships and relationships that have been lost, strained, or broken.
I am grieving.
And, as you know, grief is unpredictable and irrational. It strikes unexpectedly, rolls over you like a tidal wave knocking you off your feet, doubles you over like a sucker punch to the gut at an unanticipated trigger. It ruins the carefully painted mask you wear. It steals the words right out of your mouth.
You want to know what I hate most about grief? You can't skip to fine. I know I will be fine, but I'm not today. I know that one morning, I'll wake up and it won't hurt as bad. I'll make it an entire week without crying about it. I'll remember with a smile, not sadness, and I'll begin to see fruit coming from what I thought was a barren crop. I will be fine.
But, I can't skip to fine.
Fine is on the other side of the mountain, and the only way over it is one step at a time. So, I'm praying for wisdom on the way. To harvest every possible lesson. To find every hidden blessing. To bear the soul markings of this journey gracefully. To walk gently with others whose grief is the same yet wholly different.
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