I’m not one for the cold . Every now and then I suck it up so I can take a picture of something I deem worthy and beautiful.
Frozen in a change of seasons, the flowers are staying strong. Their bodies are in tact. I see them fighting for their place, even though it’s like they’re stuck in time.
Trying to grow, but have become frigid. Cold and dark. Yearning to shine warmth, but remaining hard and dormant.
I think I see these things because I see it where I am right now in my life. In my season. I am frigid and hard. I’ve let circumstances and people’s choices change, almost to the core, who I am.
I’ve allowed my softness to be encased in a shell of defensiveness and anger. It keeps me safe and I don’t have to make myself vulnerable to anyone’s ugliness and criticisms. I’m perfectly capable of critiquing my own character flaws, thank you very much.
So why does The Holy Spirit keep poking me, trying to talk me into dropping the armor that is so heavy for me to carry? Why should I put myself in such a possible hurtful situation?
It’s not mine to carry. But I have so much fear. And fear has temporarily overcome my ability to love like Jesus tells me to. I’m in a valley where I feel like only time will help me set these pieces of armor down. Only seeing proof that things will change is my wall. My faith is weak in my situation. Yet I pray still. I pray and pray and pray. I’m praying to see and hear and love like Him.
My being frigid is a spiritual battle. While an earthly situation has occurred, I am wounded in every sense of the word. My flesh and Spirit are at odds. And I am stuck.
And I hate it.
“Lord, be gracious to us; we long for you. Be our strength every morning, our salvation in time of distress.”
“He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.”