from my kitchen window, something I made in Middle School, something I hung on to all these years because I wanted to prove a point. I wanted to prove that I could make things. I wanted to prove that I was a survivor. I wanted to prove I was good enough.
So I kept that tiny little shelf I made in shop class, the one the teacher wasn’t so crazy about but ended up outlasting him. Times have changed. I have changed. God has forgiven and strengthened and made whole. Mistakes? I’ve made them. Struggles? Sure. Yet by the grace of God I am not who I used to be and while I’m a long way away from perfect I know that if I keep my eyes on Jesus I’m heading in the right direction.
So I started a fire this morning. A fire of sacrifice. For a while it has burned passionately and as it was I offered to God everything that was behind, pains, hurts, resentments, sins, everything, like that shelf, I may have kept close to me all these years. It was a bright, hot, and swirling fire.
But now the flames are only consuming the small remnants, the heat is gone for the most part and soon there will only be some quiet smoke drifting through the yard and into space. By the grace of God I am who I am and I refuse, with the same passionate stubbornness that made me keep that shelf, to let what Christ has died for and forgiven rule over me any more.
I have places to go, things to do, a mission to accomplish, and I’m tired of burning daylight…