At kids’ camp, I heard a comparison. A simple one: When we raise our hands up while singing during worship, we are like little children asking to be picked up. I keep coming back to this in my heart so here’s my slightly expanded story version:
A little girl runs up to her father and stumbles on the way. Skinned knees and teary eyes, she still looks up. She sees her daddy’s eyes and flings her arms up in the air begging to be picked up. Oh, how she longs to be scooped up into her father’s loving arms! Her heart is laid bare with its desire apparent: to be held. She is vulnerable as she half lays on the ground yet knows that he is safe. She puts herself fully in his care. Finally, with a swoosh of air, she is shielded from all that surrounds as his strong arms draw her near. She is so close that she can hear his heart beating.
Lately, I keep finding myself singing my heart out with arms held high. I find myself as that little girl who is working her way toward her Father’s arms. Stumbling along the way and yet still reaching for Him. Desiring to be held in His arms and to know that He’s taking care of it all. Surrendering all to Him and gazing into His eyes. Because, really, it all comes down to….
trusting
that He will pick me up off the ground
that He is making all things beautiful
that He will do beyond all that I can ask or imagine
that His timing is best
that He holds my messy heart
that He will go back to Africa with me
that He is preparing us
that He loves us
—-
what are you trusting?
b'ahava 