For His Glory

The remaking has begun.

Sadness, it’s what I feel.

As I ask God to clear my head so I can write, I remember that I tried to write a few days ago and was not able to successfully complete it; I’m assuming because I was writing in myself. I’ve always said, and believed that someway, somehow Jesus helps me write.

Writing helps me, and I feel as though my writings are meant to help others, if not today, someday.

I’m a broken mess. Like shattered glass on the floor that’s beyond repair, I’m broken.

Here we go… God it’s your turn.

Instantly, as I wrote above while mentioning how broken I feel while referring to the image of shattered glass shattered, it came to me a pot, a broken pot or vessel, but not just any pot, one that only needs to be filled, and properly placed together.

Think about those art and crafts you see where people take a broken pot and turn it into something new, and usable. I have saw several videos of such broken pots that have been carefully placed together piece by piece and made into new creations that are much prettier than they ever were in the beginning, often holding more plants and producing more fruit, flowers and bearing seeds that get transferred into other pots to be grown, hence a broken vessel/cycle allows/enabled one of the most precious and glorious transformations that the human mind or eye would not think possible.

&. that’s all I have.

I don’t feel like this is done yet; while I don’t feel lead to go into details of my brokenness, I will say that changes are taking place within my life.

I myself cannot do these changes on my own. I will admit I am farther from God than I would have ever liked to have saw myself, but I still pray and I encourage all people to pray.

NO MATTER HOW FAR YOU ARE, or HOW FAR YOU FEEL LIKE YOU HAVE FALLEN, EVEN IF YOU FEEL LIKE YOUR PRAYERS ARE NOT BEING HEARD, (<~~~THIS IS ME RIGHT HERE). PRAY ANYWAYS. TALK TO JESUS.

Talk to Jesus in the mornings. Talk to Jesus in the evenings. Talk to Jesus in your ca. Talk to him in your bed. Talk to him while you shower and shave. Talk to him while you are simply sitting on the pot. Don’t laugh; I am being serious. My whole point is to talk to him. It doesn’t matter if you’re not at a church when you decide to call out to him, what matters is that you simply call out and you yield yourself to him. What matters is that you offer yourself to him and communicate to him. I’ve been there many many times, where I feel too guilty to pray. I’ve been there where I feel too weak to talk to him. I’ve been there where I feel unworthy to talk to him. There’s nothing we can do in ourselves in our human form that makes us worthy, it was his blood alone that made the atonement for us, and he knows we are going to sin. He knows that we are / were going to backslide, and he knows those that were meant to return to him; those that would return with a new thirst and hunger like never before. If you want it, its yours to grab. Do not let today pass without talking to him, even if you feel like you aren’t ready to return to him, he simply wants to hear from you and wants you to know he is near to you. He wants you to know you are loved beyond measure pressed down, without wavering and he never left you, he never turned his back on you in your brokenness and he sees, he hears, he knows the wonders of your heart, the questioning, the endless searching, the issues of life that you possess, wondering if there is more to life than this. He knows that you sit there day in and day out, wondering if redemption will ever come, he is the redemption. We don’t always see earthly people get the redemption that sometimes the human brain and mind want to give them the true redemption is forgiveness, healing, justification, and remembrance. Leading the lost back to him, even if it’s the lost that broke us to our very core in the first place. Healing isn’t for all of society, but it’s for you if you want it bad enough.

I’m broken. My life feels shattered, I have so many decisions to make in the upcoming weeks, my mind stays in circles, and I can’t sleep at times. I want love, but dang it, I want to feel God’s love again, even if it leads me in a path that breaks my heart, just to get me to where I need to be for him. Only I’m at a place where I can’t feel it. I have tears when I type this, my hands are shaking, I don’t know who it’s for, maybe just for me, I don’t know but I’m broken and I don’t want to be this way. I beg God heal me, change things, change me. help me, lead me, take me back God. Heal my brokenness, but my mind has everything shut out with all the noise, & I am at a point where I can’t hear him. I started a devotional that I’m about to go headlong into from the beginning, one way or another I have to hear his voice and feel his presence again. I have to get back to the version of me that I used to be. I miss God, I miss my Jesus moments, I miss that me that loved without fear, that me that loved without hesitation the me that loved without reason, the me that was so full of joy, the me that used to just dance and let go in the spirt and in the presence of the Lord. I miss her. This me, I hate. I hate this version that I am now. I think of drinking. I know I don’t need to. Some don’t get it, but I just want to be numb for a minute. I want to escape, my mind. I want to be drunk and play with sidewalk chalk, drawing doodles and just forgetting and wake up the next morning question, ooopps did I pee myself. I know drinking isn’t the answer, but I know me, and I’m sure that if I don’t get over wanting to drink, I’ll end up drinking and wake up with that sickened hangover, but still. I’m broken. I know God feels my brokenness.

It’s not just months or weeks of brokenness, its years, and years and years. I’m tired, I’m weak. God, I need healed. I can lay it down a million times, but somewhere along the way this time I want free from it all. I don’t want to be burdened by it ever again.

Changes are coming. In my mind and my thoughts daily, I ride my own tail, forcing myself to think differently, sometimes I act the same still, but I know I can’t. I see my son’s life aging, and I myself am no spring chicken. I’m aging also. Time and time again I say I want it, but I’m finally there. I’m broken. & its time.

It’s time the potter helps me. I don’t know where to begin, but i’m there.

God I’m here, you tell me your married to the backslider, take all of me and help me help me. I know I pray this often, but ease me, even if I get on one of my kicks hold me. I mean no harm by it, I’m just broken, and it hurts. I’m suffocating in myself God, as the tears roll down, I hear this song playing, (so ironic, yet I don’t think coincidental),” Jeremy Camp, I’ll take you back”…

Ok, so that’s that, & just like that when it leaves it leaves..

Again, I don’t know who this is meant to help, maybe just me. I always go and reread what I have written, but if my trauma and these writings help just one person, then its accomplished more than I ever thought was possible..

❤ Christie.