Stretching

God has been stretching me. I mean, really s-t-t-r-r-r-r-e-e-e-e-t-t-t-t-c-c-c-h-h-ing me. Lately, just 'ok' has not been 'ok'. What has 'worked' for me for years, has not been 'working'. And when I cry, "But, God...," I hear Him speak to my heart, "No buts. I love you. Get up. Get busy. Get over yourself." My best efforts to argue with the creator of the universe are not going as well as one might hope. I enjoy hanging out in my comfortable little corner of the world, you know? Just quietly doing my thing. He gave me a writer's heart, so to some extent, I need that quiet corner to do good with the talents He gave me. But I had grown too comfortable. Too lazy. Too content.

It sort of reminds me of when I lived at home, and Grandma would wake me up in the mornings for school. The first few 'wake up calls' were quiet. "Angela, get up, Honey. Time to go." Ten minutes later (when I'm still in bed), her voice was a little louder, but still sweet. "Angela, get up. You're going to be late." Ten minutes after that, not so sweet. "Angela! Now!" I would roll out of bed with a fire under me. And that's where I am right now. I was hanging out lazily. I heard Him call intently. I am up (though a little apprehensively). There's a fire under me. I do not want to be late for what He has waiting.

One small example among many.... The opportunity has arisen for me to help Matt lead a mission trip next month......... to Brazil. And not Brazil as in Indiana. Brazil as in South America. Had this happened at any other moment than now, I think I would have not only said, "No" but "Heeeeccck No." A trip to Brazil may not seem much to some, but for someone who A.) has difficulty being away from their children for long periods of time, B.) isn't the greatest at talking one-on-one with others about anything much less Jesus, and C.) doesn't fly, it's a big deal. I mean, it would be awesome if I could take my kids with me, drive or teleport there, and just text or email people about Jesus. And I realize suddenly, I am an easy-way-out-taker. And I don't want to be. So, I'm going to kiss my babies goodbye knowing they will be fine without me, get on that plane (though medicated), and do my best to communicate with strangers... who speak Portuguese. And it's going to be hard for me. Really hard. But that's ok.

It's uncomfortable to be stretched. But if it makes me better... if He can use me more... if all of this stretching is the beginning of our new beginning, then I have to be ok with 'uncomfortable.' Because if it makes me better, Lord, break me.

There is an old school song by Morgan Cryar called, Yes. I love the lyrics. Here are a few:

Clutching all I have and hold,
where do I begin?
I lose my grip as I am told,
Lord, you always seem to win
every test of wills
with no contest.
So I trust you with it all,
every piece of me.
I lay it down, await your call,
no more holding back, you see...
You only have to speak,
and the answer is, 'yes.'
Every plan I've ever made,
on the altar now.
I think of all the prayers I've prayed,
and it's dawning on me how,
I talk so much more than you,
now I'll listen.
Make me like your Son instead,
awaiting every word.
He never ran ahead,
only did the things He heard.
Lead me where you will,
I will follow.