I’m not sure how much stranger my life is going to get, but I am hanging on for the ride. My hands are clenched into tight-white fists like a kid on a sled at the tip-top height of a snow covered hill. God the Father has asked me to trust Him, He is steering from behind, but I can’t see Him. My mouth is opened in a wide, soundless shriek of delight and fear as we crest over the white powder that sends bits of ice into my hair and eyes. My breath is frozen fog and I’m swept through it quickly. I must hold tightly, I must hold tightly, I must not let go or I will lose it all, lose everything … finally the ride slows, and my hands slowly unclasp, but they shake from the muscle strain. It is only then that I feel the powerful muscles of his arms around me and realize how well I have been held by my Father. Though He was steering and safely guiding, He was also holding me. I was allowed to feel the jarring ride, the bumps, flecks of ice whipping my skin, but I was always safe in His arms. He was taking me to His perfect destination, never letting me go. How much stress could I release if I only relaxed to enjoy His ride?
For further meditation: Isaiah 41
- The routine and mundane~ for Your glory. (melodygr4c3.wordpress.com)