Dear Jesus,  Don’t Answer Me, Not Just Yet….

Dear Jesus,  Don’t Answer Me, Not Just Yet….

Among the broken, distraught, and altogether rotten brats I must encounter each day, as their mother, I am the worst of these.

I want what I want when I want it.

That means now.

I want my café mocha, “skinny, extra hot, with an extra shot, and yes I still want whip cream. And yes, I know that refutes the skinny.”

Don’t mess with me you snarky Grad-School Barista with a lip ring… I will climb across this counter and pummel your 20-something hiney feeding you a lip ring for a mid-morning snack.

P.S.  Jesus loves you.

I want the checkbook to balance, the i’s to be dotted, and the t’s to be crossed.

Make your bed, don’t cuss, no sexting (at all,) or texting at the table.

Don’t roll your eyes or talk back… and for heaven’s sake, did you even recognize the soap and deodorant I put in your bathroom?  Cause you smell like ruminating soft cheeses.

I need a hot bath.

Also, a massage.

Nails, French manicured, square, round, with glossy gel finish. Eyebrows waxed. Fine, my lip too, but that’s just between me and you.

Touch up my roots, ten more sits ups, once more around the block, laundry folded, casserole baking, and all things trimmed, bleached, and decorated ala Chip and Jo.

My heart craves all things Target, Amazon, and Old Navy clearance tags, plus an extra 70% off… also, TJMaxx.  Cause TJMaxx means I LOVE YOU in Hebrew.  Or whatever language Jesus would whisper sweet nothings in my ear.

I call on Jesus a lot… like a whole bunch.

“Jesus, please move the Starbucks line.”

“Sweet Jesus!  What is in your hair???”

“OH JESUS, please!  I won’t speed ever again if you get me out of this ticket!”

“Jesus, help… why won’t you answer me? This time, it is really very bad.”

Alas, He moves how He moves and saves how He saves… and although things are really very bad, I hope He waits this time to answer.  Just this once… I want to be caught receiving the answer with my pants up, not down around my ankles.

In this storm let Him find me with my hands raised high.

This time, let me not glance down and question the water I freely walk on.

Let me not sink into the depths of the sea of doubt, let me not beg to be saved.

No, not this time.

This time let me get caught believing “Yes, I can. Yes, He will.”

Just this once let me flex my spiritual abs, flash the muscles I have gained, and not from back to back Body Pump, but from back to back disappointment, heartbreak, and all things Monday.

In my anguish let Him find me singing songs of thanks, melodies of adoration and my wholly purchased restoration.

This despair, this time, let it be said, “I believed.” Certainly, I wish Him to find me unafraid, unworried, and completely un-Jami.  Outside looking in, let Him be both delighted and mystified by how much I have grown since the first time we met, and the last time He found me… utterly destroyed.

Never again let Him see me in doubt, shriveled and hopeless.

Yes, Jesus, give me a chance to wander the lion’s den boldly.  An intrepid smile on my brave face, I taunt the deadly cats, “Here kitty-kitty.”

Let me sing and dance in the inferno.

Boil me in oil. There, let Him come to answer and find me, stout-hearted.

I see the smile spread across His precious face, I hear the words I long to hear, “There’s my girl, so faithful.”

Yes Lord, wait to answer me.  Wait a little longer.  Look, my knees aren’t shaking, well, not like before.  My hands are steady.  Here, knee deep in the ashes, silt caked from dry tears, I puff up my chest, jut out my chin and scream, “I believe!”

Find me, Lord. Find me, daughter, child, warrior, friend.

[clickToTweet tweet=”I see the smile spread across His precious face, words I long to hear, “There’s my girl, so faithful.”” quote=”I see the smile spread across His precious face, words I long to hear, “There’s my girl, so faithful.””]

Know this is who I am, faithful believer who doesn’t just believe You exist, I believe You.

I believe You are who You say You are and I believe why You came, died and live again. Yes, I believe.

Come at your leisure, I will not doubt. The torture will not break me, for I know, you will Save.

You already have.

So in my brokenness, I beg you, take your time.

I am just fine.

Here in the decay, debris, and remnants of want and need… I believe you.

You know the cries of my heart, the deep need, the scary parts – but you will not find me a red-hot mess, not this time.

This storm you’ll allowed, this one, this time will be the best of me.

[clickToTweet tweet=”Here in the decay, debris, and remnants of want and need… I #believe you.” quote=”Here in the decay, debris, and remnants of want and need… I #believe you.”]

Draw me nearer the cross. 

Fix my eyes on the prize. 

Wait with me.  

Dear Jesus,  Don’t Answer Me…

 Just Yet….

James 1:2-4 (NLT) “Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles of any kind come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. So let it grow, for when your endurance is fully developed, you will be perfect and complete, needing nothing.”

 

May your floors be sticky and your calling ordained.  Love, Jami

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