on waking

This morning when I woke up (from a decidedly odd dream) these words were ringing loudly and unmistakably in my head: Put your hand to the plow and don’t look back. Now that you’ve cast off your old self, don’t you go digging her up again.

Amazing. Last night as I was lying in bed I wrote out a declaration of choice to God: I choose You and Your way over mine, so make me new. My journaling app was acting up and the draft got deleted. But clearly God heard, and that is so scary and so heartening at the same time…

This also reminds me of Ephesians 2 (we were DEAD in the trespasses in which we once walked) and Proverb 26 (a dog returning to its vomit).

I am new. White as snow. I still clutch at bits of who I used to be because in my vainer moments I feel like they make me special. My heart is grieved by how much I am willing to debase myself for the sake of momentary affirmation and approval — love that is recycled and shallow. His heart is grieved. Bruises to show. But God is physician, healer, and overall restorer, and the mad thing is that the renewal of me isn’t even the end, it’s merely the start, because He’s in the business of renewing just about the whole world…

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