I died today.
Legit, died.
I finally had the nerve to talk to God today. I haven’t talked to Him for over two weeks. Since my injury to be exact. I have prayed to Him, but I haven’t really talked to Him. I’ve ignored Him.
This morning I decided to go downstairs, and face Him. Vent and get angry with what has happened to me. So I decided to pray, and then dive into the Word. I dove. Hard. I sat on a bench, crying. Talking to God, and crying to Him. Embarrassed that I haven’t spoken to Him for this long. I also apologized. Too many times.
I died.
Jesus calls us to go to Him. Daily.
To trust in Him. Daily.
To worship Him. Daily.
I haven’t.
He sent his son to die for us.
We need to die for Him.
We need to surrender ourselves to Him. Daily.
I sure as heck haven’t.
I refuse to sit here and act like everything is fine. It’s not.
I refuse to be comfortable knowing what God can do for me, and me just sit here and ignore it.
If you are comfortable with this, you need a big time reality check.
Or a slap in the face.
Why do we choose to ignore His voice?
Why?
I have ignored Him so many times, it is ridiculous.
I ignore Him because I don’t want to know His answer.
Most of the time I already know what He is going to say, so I just don’t listen.
I run away from Him.
But when I turn around to go back, He is right there.
Always.
These past two weeks have been hell.
Literally.
I have been sitting in an apartment, angry.
Sad.
Depressed.
Unsure.
Frustrated.
Hurting. Bad.
Things I know I shouldn’t feel.
But I chose these emotions because they are easy.
Easy to blame.
Easy excuse.
Easy way out.
At least when I am in the apartment feeling sorry for myself, Tyler was here.
He injured his back, so we hung out for two weeks.
Tyler went home the other day.
America home.
His pain was too much, and he needed help.
God spoke to him, and Tyler listened.
He chose not to ignore His answer.
When I was laying on the bench outside the apartment, crying my eyes out.
I decided to listen.
I decided to have my conversation with my God.
We sat, and talked.
Cried.
Laughed.
And worshiped.
I have missed talking to Him.
A lot.
I asked questions, and He answered.
Clearly.
Too clearly.
I know what I am supposed to do.
I am supposed to finish this race.
God told me that He has more things in store for me for these next eight months,
And He isn’t finished with me.
Not even close.
I died today.
I want to die every day, because Jesus died for us.
I want to take up the cross daily.
I do not want to be just a human.
I want to live for Him, and have Him live through me.
Every day.
Who’s with me?
