Perfectly flawed

Kiss the Son

We've almost arrived in the new year and I'm still maneuvering this wilderness called Philadelphia. I knew that's what He meant when He said, "come away with Me... Come into the wilderness.." but who can really prepare themselves to be unaffected by such a change? I went from being surrounded by my friends and family every day to waking up alone and facing this journey on my own (humanly speaking). So here I am... and I'm finding my heart lunging in every direction for some shred of comfort for my soul. It's as if I've devised a plan to remain elusive from my own grief; hiding on the surface of survival. Maybe if I avoid those dark depths for long enough the pain will just cease and I won't have to go there after all.
So suddenly I'm not only just painting pictures of Egypt, longing to go back, but recreating Egypt in my daily life and modeling my surroundings as such. Ah, the layers of deceptive idolatry... promises of comfort... promises of safety... the seductive idea that I don't really have to do this. He doesn't really want me to be in discomfort, does He?
And then I hear a still small voice whisper, "Beloved, come and die..."
It's me. I'm that sacrifice that's desperately trying to crawl off of the altar. Pleading with Him to just let me go around this mountain. Begging to negotiate something just a bit less painful. How swiftly my heart becomes cowardly when death is my portion... I clearly see why He's brought me here.
And so, I begrudgingly pull my writhing soul back onto this altar. As if fighting with Him gets me anywhere anyway.

Uncle.