Time is Telling

At the end of each quarter I normally retreat( or as Calvary SLO says advance) into the hills to pray, seek out the face of God, and reflect on the quarter. This quarter it was more to pray than anything. I had and still do feel/felt God leading a necessity for solitude and prayer.

I am not quite sure what I prayed during the time I spent in the fog lying down in the grass field in the hills. One thing I knew though is that I needed God's embrace as the fog and the multitudes of grass that surrounded me last Wednesday.

To be honest, I've been in that same spot for a while now. That is desperately needing God's embrace and love. I sit down can't think,learn or pray all I can do is simply sit be still and wait for restoration to happen.

It is as a dream I had while I was home. I could not scream Jesus' name. I feel so crippled by the enemy to scream the name of my Lord and Savior.

But God is faithful! He does not leave us shattered and broken.

God alone has begun the long process of restoration on what was broken ripped and shattered last quarter. I have by God's grace begun to be able to reflect again . I feel a necessity to do so, although it is painful and difficult.

Like I said a few blogs ago I've felt like a big ball of string unraveled. Easily cut. Easily knotted. Easily bent and manipulated. A Great Cynic. Hater. Enraged man. Alas even envious.

And although this may be so far away from who and what I want to be I cling to hope: the one who does not give me what I want but what I need I heard very clearly at the feet of Jesus. "trust me let me unravel you to restoration, I will make you as a cord but these things are necessary" None of this is easy. It is painfully difficult being unwound.
. . .

While I was lying distraught in tears and in prayer in the field surrounded by the fog and the grass i noticed something next to me: it was a few crimson flowers.

Reflecting upon it I can't help but remember Golgatha where Jesus was crucified the white flowers that were perhaps on the hill underneath the shade of his crushed body. I see the white flowers stained crimson by the blood that poured from those hands and his feet pinned by one nail.

He was simply saying remember me, look to me, let me restore you. You will not be marked by who you once were although very pure white. You will be known and marked by my blood.

He has washed me with His blood into the most beautiful crimson!He has clothed me with a robe washed in his blood so that I might never forget.May I always remember my Vast God who shed all he had, for me.

To His Glory alone,
JG