just give me a second...

This morning I felt compelled to write here.  I'm really not sure why, at this point, the need would arise--but I have learned to follow such leadings, despite my hesitations.

It has been a long while since I have posted here, and longer yet since I've consistently done so.  And to be honest, I thought it likely that I may never write here again--that I may never have reason to.

Joyful DORK

A blog about being a living sacrifice. About a life of surrender.  About the JOY that surrendering can bring when you follow God's leading in to a life you wouldn't have imagined for yourself.



Well...



The joy has evaporated in the fire that has burned down the life that God called me into.  My faith-legs were broken when the rug God called me onto was pulled out from beneath me, and at this moment I am too crippled to move--let alone forward.

I've been trying to hang on.

I've been trying to wrestle, and to fight the battle I find myself in, but I am exhausted in both body and spirit.  Broken, it seems, irreparably.

The idea of surrender now evokes a feeling of necessary acceptance of becoming a prisoner of war, rather than the enthusiastic anticipation of stepping forward into some unknown place of beauty.

My mind just won't wrap around the concept that God would lead me into a battle that wouldn't be won. Not when the God I know and trust is fully capable of winning it. Is it that my mind is too firm with stubborn expectations I shouldn't have of God?  Is my mind impliable because I'm ungrateful for the promises that have been kept?  Forgetful of the gifts that were given, now taken back...

The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away.  

And I wish I was okay with that.

I just needed a second to simply be.

In that time I've been writing a new blog in which to share my new journey of fighting for the faith to say, and mean, "It is well".  And while I may no longer be the same joyful dork I was three years ago, I am still a daughter of the risen King.  My faith in that has not been destroyed.

I suppose there is a different kind of joy in knowing that.