Hello 2015

Sometimes, when I look at myself in moments of reflection like this, all I see is a to-do list–a long one–of problems to be fixed. Like if I can just get those things done, finish the list, I’ll be perfect. My mind will be clear and my heart will be pure. All my relationships will be perfect–especially my relationship with God. All I need to do is make sure my heart is in the right place, and keep working on the list.

Except, I’m human. So I fail. Over and over I fail, again and again until there seems no point in trying. There are times when I move forward–and it’s wonderful–but it seems for every two steps forward I take three steps back. And the list, with every failure, only grows longer, and longer, and longer…

That’s what I was thinking last night, as I worked on my resolutions for 2015. About all the things I need to do to fix myself. Not just what I listed as my actual goals, but about all the flaws in my heart. The things that I know are wrong inside.

And sometimes, with morning comes perspective. At least, in my head anyway. Internalizing it is a whole nother story, let alone acting on it. You see, I have a lot of internal problems. Well, sins. Might as well call it like it is. Things that hinder my relationship with God. I also, to be honest, have a lot of more tangible ones. And the thing is, I can’t…I can’t fix this.

I know it in my head. But somehow a big part of me still seems to think that I have to do it all. I’m on my own for this one. Yeah, God’s out there, He’s that distant Force I pray to for luck while I’m sorting all this out myself.

And I live this way.

And I am so glad that, even when I might seem so, this isn’t how it actually works.

It’s a cool think when I realize that God isn’t just a faraway, pie-in-the-sky, wish-me-luck kind of god. He’s here, he’s now, he’s real. That’s what the incarnation, which we celebrated just over a week ago, was all about, really.

And no matter what–regardless of demands, stresses, disappointments; expectations, irritations, qualifications; the shiftings of my mind, the distortion of my eyes, or the state of my heart–he is faithful, he is true, he is here, he is real, he is alive and he is active! Not only that, but he is personal. He knows my inner workings, he wove together the fabric of my being and crafted every corner of my soul, with all its curves and edges, and so he knows exactly where it is that the dust tends to gather, the rooms that go untended. He knows me, and understands me intimately–and loves me with a passion that sent him to the grave and back. The thing is, God wants the best for me. So it’s freedom, really, to surrender.

Oh, how desperately I need that reminder, every. Single. Day.

God, I give this year to you. Do with me as you see fit.




Published by

Breanna Joy

Once upon a time, in a far-away land, there was born one chill wintry day a lass who would come to be called Bre. She grew up whiling away the time upon myriad pursuits that would one day shift from pursuits to passions; creative, curious, and mischievous, she loved to read whatever she could manage to get her hands on (in particular novels, those of plot complex, world intriguing, and characters remarkable) — and read she did! She devoured words with so fierce a joy that she grew skillful in wielding such words as her own — story, journal, article, post and poem alike. For other arts, she also nurtured admiration. She loved in her heart the beauteous sound of music and the power it held over emotion and spirit. And she would work with her own hands to sketch and to paint and to correct and to create. One of her deepest passions was the stage, where she would take on a character as if an article of clothing, and live and breathe in another’s skin. In addition, the stories of times past and cultures distant enraptured her fascination, and she dreamed of one day venturing to explore these unknown lands. But these, these were nothing to the true heart of her soul. She found for herself a motley band of what can only be called friends–though some of whom were, truth be told, far more than that to her. They changed her being and resided in her heart. And so she lived, and loved, and dreamt. She dreamt of adventure and beauty and song and story and love and laughter. But far beyond anything else, did she strive with love toward her God. For this was her own great quest, or, if you will, her part in His own great story: to love those in the world, as He had loved her, when she had not loved Him–indeed, when she had turned from Him, hid from Him, rejected Him and ignored Him–He loved her enough to die for her. And so, because of this great love that now burned like a fire inside of her, a blazing beacon, she strove for a life lived in a beautiful harmony to Him who gave her a second chance. As she grew, she became confused, and doubting, and weak, and afraid, and unclean, and she would forget, and go to the world that was pressing at her to give in, in an attempt to satisfy her emptiness, though it would always leave her wanting. But always she would return, and be whole and filled again, made complete and beautiful in her soul. Storms would come and battles would rise; she would be tried and tested in many ways, and even so the story continues, but know ye this–He held her and led her all her days, and in the end, He would bring her to His own happily ever after.

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