It’s necessary, breath is.  Always.  Completely.  Necessary.

Not like food, or water, or shelter, or anything else.

A couple seconds without breath and your body lets you know…breathing is not optional, nor even able to be put off until a more convenient time.  No breath means no life.

And it doesn’t matter how strong the body is.  It doesn’t matter how sharp the mind.  It doesn’t matter how skilled the hands.  Without breath, they are all useless.

God breathed into dust and made life.

I need His breath in me.  Every moment, I need to remember where life is found.  Nothing else is as necessary.

I have always had a problem with grace and mercy.  I haven’t always recognized the problem for what it is, though.  I remember, as a child, one of my mom’s coworkers would often sign us up to receive a food basket at Thanksgiving or Christmas from his church.  There were many times when we counted on that food, not just to have a nice holiday meal, but to simply have enough to eat otherwise.  Despite that, though, I can remember feeling guilty about the fact that we were the recipients of such generosity.  I worried that someone would figure out that we didn’t actually deserve it; that the reality of why there was no food in our cupboards would be found out and they would regret showing our family such kindness.

It never really crossed my mind that it might not matter why.  I never thought that someone might just want to meet our need, without concern for how we came to have that need in the first place.  I had no concept of receiving anything other than exactly what was deserved.  And I still don’t.  I don’t know how to receive anything else and, likely far worse, I don’t know how to give anything else.

I think maybe the reason I have been so slow to realize this is that I can, at times, go to great lengths to find a reason why someone is deserving of something.  I try to rationalize bad behavior and search for explanations for wrong choices.  I try to convince myself of how good things have been earned.  Really, I try to justify sin and turn free gifts into simply what is owed to a person.

But when I can’t…when I can’t see sin as anything other than the ugliness that it always is, when I can’t persuade myself that a blessing is merited…I resort to being judgmental, envious, stingy, angry, frustrated or hurt.  This is how I respond to others.  This is how I respond to myself.  I know it speaks volumes about my understanding – or lack thereof – of God’s justice and the sufficiency of Christ’s sacrifice.  It’s not that I can’t explain it, but somewhere between my head and my heart, the truth gets lost.  I have moments when I recognize my failings in this area and force myself to respond in a manner that I know is right, but it is so hard.

I am acutely aware of the difference between my heart in this and God’s.  Every time I think about the cross and about how undeserving I am of all He’s done for me, I am overwhelmed by His goodness and I am so, so thankful.  But, it doesn’t make the slightest bit of sense to me.  Knowing that He sees the worst parts of me, and loves and forgives me anyway?  It’s baffling.  It’s amazing.  Still, it’s how I want to be.  I want to be like Jesus.  I want to have God’s heart.  It can seem absolutely impossible, knowing the heart I have now.

But He can change my heart.

If we want to draw near to the Lord, if we want Him to reveal Himself to us, if we want to see His glory, we have to know that what is in our hearts will be brought to light, and we have to be okay with it.  The dark corners and hidden places that go unnoticed in the dimly-lit rooms of apathy and complacency become ever brighter as we venture closer to the light of His holiness.

It can be a hard thing, knowing what’s in those unseen spaces and still finding the willingness to let the Lord expose and convict, challenge and rebuke.  It can be tempting to hold back, to be satisfied with the light and fellowship we can enjoy at a ‘safe’ distance, where we don’t have to acknowledge or deal with the “little” sins that are even so robbing joy, constricting life, limiting the Spirit’s ability to move in and through us.  It takes humbling – recognizing that no matter how much we want to hold onto something, no matter how convinced we are that freedom isn’t worth the mark on our perceived character or the forced submission of our flesh – the forgiveness and restoration that comes with repentance and refining is of far greater value.

And I think God is waiting for us to have that realization.  I think He is waiting for us to want Him enough, to truly put Him first, to make seeking His face and entering into His presence more important than our comfort, more important than our reputation, more important than our earthly desires.

He is wanting us to enter in to His presence – actively, purposely, knowingly – laying aside everything else, that we might gain Christ.

When I shut up heaven and there is no rain, or command the locusts to devour the land, or send pestilence among My people, 14 if My people who are called by My name will humble themselves, and pray and seek My face, and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin and heal their land. —2 Chronicles 7:13-14

Unless the Lord builds the house, They labor in vain who build it; Unless the Lord guards the city, The watchman stays awake in vain.  —Psalm 127:1

It’s not me.  It’s not my ideas.  It’s not my methods.  It’s not my perfection.  It’s not my wisdom.  It’s not my talents.  It’s not my successes.

It’s not me.  It’s not my insufficiencies.  It’s not my weaknesses.  It’s not my inferiority.  It’s not my fear.  It’s not my flaws.

No matter how much I might sometimes think that my efforts, whether seemingly enough or spectacularly inadequate, determine the end result of anything, the reality is that nothing will stand in my life apart from His divine orchestration.

Lord, help me set my eyes on You.  Let my heart be Your heart, and my will submit to Yours in all things.  May I always, always know that who I am in You is enough and that nothing I try to do apart from You will ever prosper.  God, be glorified in this life.

I’m torn about what to write.  I know that I mostly write melancholy things.  I know that it sometimes might seem like life is always, only struggles.  I don’t want to give that perception.

So, I thought, maybe I should write about the good things.  Maybe, I should say something about how much I love having a big garden, and how we have already enjoyed radishes, kale, chives, lettuce, chard, rhubarb and strawberries, and how it still amazes and humbles me how God makes things grow.  Maybe, I should say how much fun I have watching Caedmon’s baseball games…even in the rain, even while watching the other four kids.  Maybe, I should note how I am taken aback every time I walk into the kitchen and see that all the dishes have been washed, dried, and put away and I didn’t have to do a thing.  Maybe, I should write about the cute things my kids have said, and how thankful I am for my husband, and how I smile a little bit every time I see the pretty pink peonies gracing my table.

Maybe I should write about those things.  It’s all true.  And they are good things, for sure.  I am blessed in my life.  I know that.

But when it comes to life lessons?  When it comes to where God is revealing Himself to me most poignantly?  The reality, then, is that the depth of His grace in my life is not best seen through the joys and blessings.  Perhaps it’s different for everyone, but in my life, I see God and hear God the best in the midst of struggle.  Refining processes require a disruption in material for the impurities to be separated out.

I am thankful for the blessings in my life.  So thankful.

Honestly, though?  I’m more thankful for the difficulties…that draw me to the Lord, that test my faith, that show me my great need of sanctification, that remind me of just how much better, and stronger, and more perfect than me He is.  It may not always come across that way when I write.  Sometimes, things are painful and hard to understand.  Sometimes, I wish I was not such a slow learner.  Sometimes, I doubt.  A closer walk with Him is worth so much more than He’s ever asked me to give, though it seems to require more than I think I want to give, at times.  Those moments have shaped my faith and my life.  I could never give anything more than a superficial glimpse of His redemptive work in me if I did not tell most about those moments.

I have a “habit” of taking a small break during my days these past few weeks to go outside and just wander around the yard, peruse the gardens, pull a few weeds, and just be alone for a few minutes.  The past few days have been cool ones, and today there is rain added in.  It’s the kind of weather that I love, but not the kind of weather I normally think would cause a garden to thrive.

Today, though, as I approached our first garden bed, I was almost startled by the size my broccoli and beets and beans had grown to, seemingly overnight.  I found the first pea pod, and kale leaves now large enough to be picked.  Moving on, I saw the asparagus plants now thriving after weeks of wondering if they were going to do anything at all, and cabbage plants, full and lovely…and God stirred something in my heart.

He reminded me that some plants need the cold to thrive.  My throat tightened at the thought, my eyes filled with tears.  I’ve been pleading with God to end this season of my soul that has been cold and dreary and harsh.  It’s nothing warm or beautiful or sunny.  But there is fruit that won’t be brought to bear in my life except in and through this season.

For a day in Your courts is better than a thousand. I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God Than dwell in the tents of wickedness. For the Lord God is a sun and shield; The Lord will give grace and glory; No good thing will He withhold From those who walk uprightly. O Lord of hosts, Blessed is the man who trusts in You!                       —Psalm 84:10-12   

This morning is off to a slow start.  I have a headache.  I have a long list for the day, for the week.  My heart is heavy and my soul is parched.  Some days, I feel like I’m walking in wilderness, wandering, wanting to leave, but feeling like God is not leading me out.  This morning, I asked why.

The answer I got was simply a reminder of why God had the Israelites wander in the wilderness: And you shall remember that the Lord your God led you all the way these forty years in the wilderness, to humble you and test you, to know what was in your heart, whether you would keep His commandments or not. —Deuteronomy 8:2. 

In a lot of ways, it is not an answer I would have preferred.  It stings a little bit, to think that I need humbling.  It frightens me a little bit, to think that what’s in my heart should be brought to light; to think that my faithlessness and frailty could be exposed.  But the comfort – the hope – I find in this answer is that it reminds me that God is leading me, even in the wilderness, and that there is a purpose for it.  And, really, that’s all I need to know.