Fragment 3: March 30, 2021
In moments of quiet, I hear you—when the rest you ask of me is attended to, your voice is clear. You beckon me to create space, often in ways I wouldn’t choose—through sickness, or tragedy, or trial. But you know that I need to hear you; that I need to be with you. You know, because you are the creator of my very identity, the creator of all that I was made to be.
Yet, through my own failures, who I was made to be is often made hidden—as I fail to choose paths that lead me in step with your calling. In you and with you, I am found; apart from you, I am unmade. Lord, lead me in the paths you have created for me; the paths you have made me for. I want nothing apart from you, and I ask for nothing more. Thank you, Lord my God, for the moments of waiting that cause me to put my hope on you and you alone; thank you for my physical weakness that forces me to rest, and to refocus. Shape me, oh great artist, into whatever work I am made for.
When I listen, truly listen, to your Spirit inside of me, I know the choices I am called to make; I know which paths lead to joy, and which lead to selfish ambition. If only I can remember the signs, I am never lost in my wanderings. The songs you have planted in my life speak to who I am meant to be; the stories you lead me to root and anchor me in your purposes. The people surrounding me—in my past, as well as in my present—are living reminders of the work you have called me to. Let me remember the signs, Lord, and not forget my role as your child—just your child, meant to follow, never to lead.
In the following, there is joy. In the following, there is a discovery of identity rather than a loss of it. The story you have crafted for me, while hidden from me in part, is revealed in your story, Lord Jesus—in who you were, and in who you are. Help me remember; help me remember the signs.