Friday, April 29, 2016

Living Life Without God: Faith-(re)filled Friday

I've been living life without God.

I mean, I've been giving Him credit when it's due, and I've been reading scripture, attending church...yada yada yada.

But, when it comes to leaning into Him during weakness, worldliness, and times of want? I don't even know how.

I've forgotten my practice of turning to Him first. I've become obsessed with success and striving and fairness and using my own effort to gain what I want.

Do I even get it? Nope. Usually, all the attempts brings me to more problems, bigger heart wounds, and basically, a dark chasm that sucks me in.

I can't focus on the cross ahead...just the darkness below, promising me "If you just do this, say this, believe this'll get everything you want."

I am in the desert with the devil, being told to jump. And doing it.

Life without God is deceiving. It makes me think I am strong and able, but really, I am weak, like a fragile shell ready to snap at the next pressure I choose to tackle on my own.

Parenting has been my greatest microscope into my heart. Because, it's when I am talking with my children, dealing with their own dramas, that I find myself giving advice that sounds more like a secular counselor than a spirit-guided parent. My tongue very nearly gets tied when I try to apply God's truth to the situation.

But then, in the quiet of night, I am lured by a tiny flame. A muted hush of a whisper, an old memory that's been piled on by hardships and heartaches, a memory of this friend of mine who had offered me peace in the face of every little thing and every big thing and I used to tap into that and rest. That was when Life was with God.

I want that again. My children need that again. I am the only one that gives it to them around here. Destruction is just around the corner if I don't. I can see their character manipulated into selfishness, materialism, and entitlement. And I see the obstacles tripping them into that dark chasm of life without God...where nobody waits to catch them, and they are forced to scramble around on their own.

On this Faith-Filled Friday, I pray for a complete refilling of the faith I've left behind. My children need hope again. They need help. They need assurance in something or someOne greater than themselves. And me.

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