Right now, I feel like just a grain of wheat. Trapped in the endless daily cycles of routine and rigamarole; not at all embracing and living to the fullest. I'm stuck on top of the soil, desperately trying to burrow into it. But I have no strength -- I cannot climb into it myself.
I have so many dreams for my life that I want to say are unfolding. But at the culmination of my hopes, doors are closed and I wonder, why?
Lord, is my faith not enough? Is this not your will? Why, oh God, am I waiting? I want to be used mightily for your kingdom -- why is this not what you have given?
Too often I try to impress my own plans on God. I'm in a season in life of growing right now. My character is being cultivated, my hopes sharpened, and my life seemingly stretching endlessly in front of me. But the paths that I thought were the right trails end up being dead-ends -- they're not where I am meant to travel. Yet I stubbornly persist in trying to walk through the walls in order to achieve my goals. I have my own agenda and I'm constantly bashing headfirst into brick, trying to figure out the way through stone. Places I thought were doors but instead, are just walls.
Just grain.
I don't want to live a life of being just grain.
Die to self. Die to self. Die to self.
I refuse to hold onto life just as it is; Jesus, help me to die to this world. Help me become fully alive in your glory. Refuel my light (Romans 12:12).
In my quest of searching for God's will, I've really been asking the Lord if he'll make my will His own. When doors close, I refuse to admit that they were nothing more than walls. "But Lord, that's what I want! That's what I'm dreaming of! Please, can't I do that?"
Surrendering my will to His own is hard and painful and it hurts. Because it means change; it means recognizing that my carefully-planted garden was really nothing more than a dream; a mirage shimmering on the distance. Yet I refuse to look and see His plan for my life, blooming on the horizon. Thriving. Abundant. Lush and verdant. Full of His glory.
I ignore it and try to coax life out of what has no substance. "Are you sure, Lord? Really? This isn't what you want? I believe you, God! I believe you, I really do. But...this is what I want. Don't you want the best for me?"
And there's the trigger. In my search for self, while wearing a mask of complete surrender, I've become blind and numb to the truth.
His will is the best for me. His no's are always a better yes. The Lord has marvelous, incredible, amazing plans for my life (Jeremiah 29:11), yet if I keep trying to walk through walls, I'm going to miss them. I need to let go of the dreams I thought were doors, and instead, look for his path. Surrender completely. Jesus, take all of me -- all I am is yours. Let that be my heart, o precious King.
I will not just be a grain of wheat.
Die to self. Let me not hold onto life just as it is.
Lord, help me to turn from brick-walls and evanescent plans of my own, and instead, get off that fence. Help me to die to self and plant me, water me, prune me and my dreams, even though it hurts, so that I will blossom with fruit for your glory. Let me live a life of abundant joy, reckless in love, authentic in complete surrender. Use me mightily for your kingdom! Wipe me clean of smudges and let me be a mirror to reflect your glory.
Jesus, I don't want to be just a grain of wheat.
Show me your path, direct my stumbling feet. Sanctify me in truth -- your word is truth (John 17:17). Reveal to me that your will is perfect. Cleanse the crud of culture and worldly expectations from my mind and fill my eyes with you.
I want to see you, completely. I want to live for you, wholly.
I want to bloom where I'm planted.
You may have closed doors, but Lord, place me by a window.
"Listen carefully: Unless a grain of wheat is buried in the ground, dead to the world, it is never any more than a grain of wheat. But if it is buried, it sprouts and reproduces itself many times over. In the same way, anyone who holds on to life just as it is destroys that life. But if you let it go, reckless in your love, you'll have it forever, real and eternal." - John 12:24
In my weakness, He is perfect strength; His grace is sufficient. (2nd Corinthians 12:9).I have so many dreams for my life that I want to say are unfolding. But at the culmination of my hopes, doors are closed and I wonder, why?
Lord, is my faith not enough? Is this not your will? Why, oh God, am I waiting? I want to be used mightily for your kingdom -- why is this not what you have given?
Too often I try to impress my own plans on God. I'm in a season in life of growing right now. My character is being cultivated, my hopes sharpened, and my life seemingly stretching endlessly in front of me. But the paths that I thought were the right trails end up being dead-ends -- they're not where I am meant to travel. Yet I stubbornly persist in trying to walk through the walls in order to achieve my goals. I have my own agenda and I'm constantly bashing headfirst into brick, trying to figure out the way through stone. Places I thought were doors but instead, are just walls.
Just grain.
I don't want to live a life of being just grain.
Die to self. Die to self. Die to self.
I refuse to hold onto life just as it is; Jesus, help me to die to this world. Help me become fully alive in your glory. Refuel my light (Romans 12:12).
In my quest of searching for God's will, I've really been asking the Lord if he'll make my will His own. When doors close, I refuse to admit that they were nothing more than walls. "But Lord, that's what I want! That's what I'm dreaming of! Please, can't I do that?"
Surrendering my will to His own is hard and painful and it hurts. Because it means change; it means recognizing that my carefully-planted garden was really nothing more than a dream; a mirage shimmering on the distance. Yet I refuse to look and see His plan for my life, blooming on the horizon. Thriving. Abundant. Lush and verdant. Full of His glory.
I ignore it and try to coax life out of what has no substance. "Are you sure, Lord? Really? This isn't what you want? I believe you, God! I believe you, I really do. But...this is what I want. Don't you want the best for me?"
And there's the trigger. In my search for self, while wearing a mask of complete surrender, I've become blind and numb to the truth.
His will is the best for me. His no's are always a better yes. The Lord has marvelous, incredible, amazing plans for my life (Jeremiah 29:11), yet if I keep trying to walk through walls, I'm going to miss them. I need to let go of the dreams I thought were doors, and instead, look for his path. Surrender completely. Jesus, take all of me -- all I am is yours. Let that be my heart, o precious King.
I will not just be a grain of wheat.
Die to self. Let me not hold onto life just as it is.
Lord, help me to turn from brick-walls and evanescent plans of my own, and instead, get off that fence. Help me to die to self and plant me, water me, prune me and my dreams, even though it hurts, so that I will blossom with fruit for your glory. Let me live a life of abundant joy, reckless in love, authentic in complete surrender. Use me mightily for your kingdom! Wipe me clean of smudges and let me be a mirror to reflect your glory.
Jesus, I don't want to be just a grain of wheat.
Show me your path, direct my stumbling feet. Sanctify me in truth -- your word is truth (John 17:17). Reveal to me that your will is perfect. Cleanse the crud of culture and worldly expectations from my mind and fill my eyes with you.
I want to see you, completely. I want to live for you, wholly.
I want to bloom where I'm planted.
You may have closed doors, but Lord, place me by a window.
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