Thursday, January 3, 2013

My Daddy Sings Faith

... My fear grips my faith, and I am left unmoved...

It dances, lurches like a joker from Hell, through my head. My heart.

It's times like these when I feel suffocated, drowning. Fear like water fills lungs.

When those I respect question His call, His will. And then I question too.

I question too.

Faith that was so sure a moment before finds itself in the boa constrictor vise of fear. When will the demons of fear finally lose the keys to me? When will they tremble at the mustard seed faith in me? Why do they howl the laughter of victory when they have no victory over the Victorious One in me?

When will the doubts and valid questions of the respected be expected, prepared for, faced with faith and not with fear?

I close the doubting email. Breathe deep. Think well of the one who sent it. Give thanks for their concern. Go to something else for a bit.

Winter sales fill my web browser, but all I can think is: why does their doubt make me doubt? I've heard it before - the doubt, skepticism, judgement. And I've let it roll off before. Replied to those emails and questions in quiet faith and settled back into sure knowing Arms.

Time to do it again. Breathe deep and breathe prayers for humble spirits, listening ears, and hearts giving thanks.

I hit reply and ask for His words because I have none.

And I remember what comes after fear gripping faith in the song. A Father who sings over His children, over me.

And I can hear Him singing, and it's drowning out the doubting voices, and isn't this the Voice we always need playing in our heads, our hearts?

And the Singing One gives the words. Humble words from His heart in my heart, and His assurance of what He's called me to.

I read the reply three times. Breathe deep, breathe prayer, and hit send. And it comes, that line from the chorus.

... Let us see through Your eyes that we are Your greatest prize...

And I breathe yes. Not to puff us up, but to bring us low, to bring in us in, to the sure, knowing Arms. To bring us to the place of singing where even faith like mustard seeds overcome mountains of doubt.

Because He never stops singing over His children. Over us.

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