Sitting in sweat because I am afraid.
The terror of just being...me.
She says I must rest.
But I don't know how.
When the only One I can trust is Jesus.
When my own heart is deceitful.
Full of deceit.
When iron sharpening iron hurts.
When I must hold on anyway.
Waiting on the results.
Waiting on the process.
Trusting the ultimate outcome.
And coming out of comfort zones.
Because we're not babies anymore.
And we've got to let go the Father's pant leg.
A whole hurting world out there.
That will never know love and grace and Jesus.
If we hide out in our prayer closets.
Hiding. Fearful. Terrified.
Instead of resting in Jesus.
Our Hiding Place,