Sometimes I clean out files and find things I have written and set aside then forgotten. When I rediscover these musings, it’s not unlike finding myself when I didn’t even know I was missing.
I am going to share, over the coming posts, one at a time, a small collection of devotionals I wrote over a decade ago, titled, Good Morning, Father. In His unfathomable wisdom, He knew I would need these affirmations and faith strengthening words in a future time unknown to me as I typed them. And now the time has come.
May you be blessed with whatever you need.
For Him,
Meema
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Introduction
Sunrise is the renewal of a promise. A chance to begin again, afresh, with all the bad choices of the previous days behind us, every new day is an opportunity to seek to serve God and use whatever time we have remaining to us better than we have ever done before. We cannot know how many mornings we are granted, but if we make it through the night to see another dawn, we are given the gift of time, at least once more, to get it right. For by the amazing grace of our Sovereign God all the wrong living we have done in the past is forgiven and forgotten in the instant we are willing to surrender and move forward toward Him and His will, relinquishing our own.
Though the days we have wasted cannot be changed, the new one, unfolding in front of us, holds the promise to be the one that could make it all okay.
It’s our choice.
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Good Morning, Father,
We need to talk. I’m nursing a small wound and I need your Divine guidance here. I know You understand what I am referring to. The stinging words that fired the arrows into my heart came unexpectedly. Surprise can go opposite directions, sometimes producing delight, other times inflicting pain. I have been wrestling with how I should respond, knowing my words should be tempered as Your words would be. This is harder than it sounds, but I know I will regret anything less.
Part of me wants the author of this hurt to know how disappointed I am and the mature part of me understands and accepts it doesn’t really matter in the long run. At first, I experienced only a mild discomfort and I tried to dismiss it, rationalizing like I do sometimes. The truth is, I am relieved by what will be the outcome, because it releases me from an obligation. So, why can’t I let go of it? Is it because a deeper truth has emerged? Is it facing this truth that is the source of the queasiness in my stomach?
It’s the old nemesis REJECTION isn’t it? Okay, then, now the monster has a name.
I call it out, knowing You will be there with me.
Rejection, I rebuke you. You are an internalization of self-love. Like all devises of satan, you tug and pull at the core of true human worth. But I recognize your tactics. You start with self-pity, pumping up the ego like a balloon, blowing it all out of shape. Then you stick pins in it until it deflates and feels bruised and abused. Finally, you blame everyone and everything else for whatever remains. The battered ego eagerly accepts this conclusion because it then feels justified to lash out in a self-serving futile attempt to claim restitution.
When the dust settles, what is left in ruins is often a relationship. Marriages, friendships, business partnerships. Then you, never damaged in the battle, move on to wreck havoc somewhere else.
I’m on to you and I say you can’t play here. Go away.
Thanks, Father, the hurt is all gone now. You always have the key that opens the rustiest locks. And the best part is, since I worked this out with You, I’ll not have to deal with those ugly, unchangeable regrets.
You know I hate those most of all.
Your servant,
Meema
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