A TIME NOT TO DANCE

A TIME NOT TO DANCE

an excerpt from a recent journal entry:

I am a sheep grazing in Your pasture. My eyes meet Your gaze. I am filled with a flood of Your love and kindness. I want to love You back. I want to dance and eat grass like a good sheep and be pleasing to You. I do not, however, amble over to You and let You hold me or stroke me. Why? I am still highly performance driven. Why do I keep my distance from You? Because I don’t believe You love me that much. Huh.

Lord, change my beliefs that I would respond to your love by drawing near and letting You hold me.

I imagine it again. This time, I am awash with your love but I cannot move. So I stand there, frozen. And I bow my head, partly because I’m shy, partly because of shame. You walk over, bend down and pick me up. What grace!

Why am I shy? What is making me feel ashamed? I find it hard to believe You’d want me to come over to you because You are so beautiful, perfect and great (in the original bigness sense of the word). I’m ashamed because I know what You’d like but I can’t seem to pick my feet up. I’m too in awe of You. I’m also ashamed because I know I’m not the softest sheep to hold and that I have burrs and grass all tangled up in my wool. I’m embarassed! I wish I could be perfect before I came to you.

The Son of Man came not to be served, but to serve. I want to pick those burrs out of your wool.

Take three. This time, as I’m grazing, I’m aware that my wool is stuck with stuff and it’s been a while since I’ve sat on Your lap. When our gaze meets, I happily saunter over to Your feet. You bend down, pick me up and put me on Your lap as You sit on a rock. You gently begin to stroke me, picking out the weeds and burrs in my wool. We spend an afternoon there. You, speaking softly, sometimes telling me mysteries of the world You created, sometimes sharing what’s on Your heart and sometimes singing over me. Me, content. Just listening and learning from my Master.

How mysterious and wonderful is Your love, Jesus!