More and more it seems that God is trying to weed eat apply a heavy dose weed killer on the pride that is in my life. I’m learning more and more that things that don’t appear to be pride…ARE.
These are things that I am having a hard time giving up. I want to hold on to them with the grip of a newborn all because they don’t seem like pride, but God is revealing they are anything but not pride.
Pride seems to have invaded my life (okay I probably should just admit I was born with a healthy dose of pride) recently. Maybe it’s just the fact that God is opening up my eyes more and more. I don’t want pride. I want to live in humility. I want to be a servant (which in one area has led to pride).
Pride isn’t always, “Hey, look at me. I’m faanntastic!!” It’s usually small things. Here are some things that He’s been revealing in my own life:
Not allowing others to help me. This was revealed to me through a message by Pete Wilson. I can do it by myself. I don’t need others help. It’s just easier to do it than to wait for someone, or have to do it over again cause someone did it wrong to begin with. When Shawn and I first were married we lived on the third floor of our apartment complex. No elevator. I would carry as many groceries as I feasibly could by myself up all three flights. My excuse: I’m gonna be a mom someday I need practice carrying a whole bunch of things at one time. In reality I probably didn’t want to burden Shawn. This plays into our marriage even today. I don’t want to inconvenience him or cause there to be a burden on his shoulders – even with something dumb like helping around the house, which he wants to do – all because I love him. However, not allowing others to help me does a few things:
1. It steals away the opportunity for someone to bless me.
2. It makes it about me and what I can do.
3. It tells God I don’t need Him.
I’m learning to give this up. It’s difficult. I’m naturally independent so doing things on my own is like wearing my own skin. It’s what I’m used to, it’s what makes me comfortable.
Defensiveness. I have been battling this more and more. Guards go up, steel walls encased in concrete protecting me from whatever one is trying to hurl at me. I want to protect what I’ve done, my work. This often comes up at work. Subtle accusations that I’m not doing my job right. I later make comments that I’m glad I keep records of everything so I can cover my butt. It’s more about proving myself than anything. I don’t need to be defensive. Whether it’s in my marriage where I have open communication with Shawn, or hard questions asked by a friend concerning decisions Shawn and I have to make, or my job. My responsibility is to respond to questions, respond to subtle accusations in a calm, non-defensive way. To not one-up anyone. To let down those defenses.
I’ve daily been repenting and asking God to remove the overabundance of pride that plagues my being. Jesus was/is the epitome of humility. He has given me more than ever a desire for my life to be paralleled with His. Humility is a big part of that mirror image.
He’s recently placed this verse in my mind and it rolls over and over in there:
Micah 6:8 (NIV)
And what does the LORD require of you?
To act justly and to love mercy
and to walk humbly with your God.
In this one verse all that Jesus lived out on this earth is summed up. This is how I’m wanting to be also.
I have felt so off kilter this week. My days drowsily lived, filled with data entry, PO processing, spreadsheet manipulating, food eating, book reading, trying to put aside my will and dig into having Invitations with Jesus. With waking up at 4 every morning this week after nights like this:
it’s probably pretty much no wonder I’m feeling a little cattywompus. My brain feels foggy and I feel the tentacles of depression tickling my brain, today (yesterday for you) more than the past few days, and not getting restful sleep doesn’t help.
There is much I want to say here in the format of PrudyChick.com but the words can’t seem to leave my heart to display in 1’s and 0’s. A post that was started that I can’t wrap my mind and heart around but continue to see the data contained therein being worked out in my life and heart by God.
He is working deep. I’ve asked Him to. I don’t know if my will is warring against this working, causing my life to seem off of the middle or what.
In the midst of this I’m trying to live/operate grace and patience filled. For me a lot of the time this means sitting in my cube, ear buds in, trying to ignore the noise around me. It means a quieter Prudence on many different levels.
So I walk this walk off the middle of where I usually am. The phase will pass. I will feel less off kilter. I press on.
Last week I shared about how prayer isn’t us trying to get a cart full of items through the express lane. I shared that the art of prayer is an invitation to God to speak into our lives, molding them to be parallel with Him. This desire to pray more hasn’t left. I want to be a diligent, intentional prayer.
That means for me taking intentional, well placed steps. Steps, I know that will lead me to a door step that lead to the one place I solely in my heart of hearts want to reside.
So tonight (last night for you) with a little push from my post on prayer, and this post here which served as a kick in my bum I taking that first intentional step. I’d bought a journal to use as a prayer journal months [and months ago, it was on clearance]. I’m beginning to journal my prayers out again. Blank pages longing to be the vessel in which they carry my voice from my heart to His, and in turn His heart to mine.
I am going to start reading here…
Every time I’ve sought God on where I should read the voice(s) in my head has said John. I’m unsure of the lessons He has for me written in the black, white & red; but it seems He’s taking me back to basics…for a reason.
If there is one thing I ask of you my friends, is keep me accountable. Ask me directly how my prayer life, my intimate moments with Christ are. Don’t be afraid to confront me. We have gained an amazing community across cables that connect us underground and wifi signals and part of community is accountability.
I’m not meant to drive on dirt roads….roads that are rough, generously covered in loose gravel & dirt, hairpin/white knuckle inducing curves. I don’t like driving these. Fingers clenched softly around my steering wheel would tighten up as another car approaching head-on faster than I was driving would kick up dirt that I drove into.
I would slow down even more and cautiously enter the dusty cloud and migrate my way through. Traveling down & up an extremely narrow road. An adventure. A switch from the norm & the safe.
Towards the end with each bump that would make my car sound like it was heavy laden with bass, I longed for the smoothness of pavement. For wide, well-defined lanes.
We saw things we would have never seen had we stayed on the cushy asphalt. Things like four deer standing in the road, then making a sudden getaway leaving no chance for paparazzi pictures. Two cows and two calves. Nibbling on dry weeds.
Between the curves and towering Pine Trees we saw breath taking views of the Mogollon Rim, saw new growth where fires had destroyed years before.
We were together. Husband and wife. Adventurers if only for a short time.
I loved this quote the moment I read it. I tore it off the string that dangled from my tea bag one evening. I’d already decided to write a blog about age when my birthday rolled around and I decided at that moment that it would have to be part of the post.
This weekend I’ll be 35. No shame in my game.
I’ve never cared about getting older – my only hope is that I’m a little bit more wise than I was the previous birthday. I hope that my life reflects more my creator than than one who tries steal my joy.
It seems in the last few months God has really been teaching my heart to be grateful for each day He gives me. To be thankful for each morning I continue to squint my eyes open as I reach for my phone to turn the “Get Up!!” alarm off. He is causing me to realize that each day He allows me to be present on this earth, is a gift. It’s hard some days, and others…..
…………...…….others are a joyous song.
On a sunny July afternoon God gave me breath. Breath that would one day long to speak out for Him. One day He will take that breath. How I spent those breaths in between are what matters.
As I mentioned I’ll be 35. (Still no shame in my game). No anxiety is resting in those numbers as they count up from 34. Sure there is some, “oh wow I’m gonna be 35. oh wow I’ll be 40 in five years. oh wow my mom had teenagers by the time she was my age.”
So………here’s to 35 (and 40). May I prayerfully be wiser and more like Him. May my faith continue to be like that of a child though I approach middle age. May I never be too old, to become younger.
Prudence is a 30-something writer who lives in Arizona with her husband Shawn and their chihuahuas Lengua and Zeus. She writes her life, her experiences and her crawl back to hope. Eventually, she hopes to visit India – a place that’s captured her heart without ever stepping foot on the soil.