In those early morning hours, as the Master Artist softly brushes away the darkness with pink and gold strokes, I talk to Him about the things weighing heavily on my heart. He is never too busy. He lays aside the brush, bends down to draw me close and listens with all His heart.
I whisper the same things He's heard countless times, knowing He won't grow impatient or angry. I lay them at His feet, once again. He reaches down and clasps my right hand. He listens.
"What do I do Father - with this blogging that has layered itself all over my life? How do I do it well? Should I give it up? Yes, perhaps that's the answer - to lay it all down. To simply walk away and let You take Your rightful place."
Sunlight floods the room, and I step into the day. I haven't heard Him speak. How I long to hear Him speak.
My tattered paperback copy of the NLT Bible is waiting. Our church is reading through the New Testament in the forty days before Easter. I'm behind. I read through the first chapters of Matthew, lost in the story of a Savior come to earth, disciples, miracles and those persnickety Pharisees. I am reading Jesus' instructions to His disciples in chapter 10 when suddenly the words jump off the page:
"What I tell you now in the darkness, shout abroad when daybreak comes. What I whisper in your ear, shout from the housetops for all to hear."
Matt. 10: 27
How often have I lain in bed and felt my heart begin to pound to the rhythm of a new thought that has surely come from Him? How often has the Spirit gently whispered a message too precious to keep hidden in my own heart?
He hears and answers prayer. In this tiny place, in the midst of a great big "blogosphere, " I can shout the truth He has tucked into my heart. He will carry the echo where He wills, without my striving to make myself big enough and good enough to carry the message.
I lay it down, so that He can lift it up.