Living the Resurrection?

Things 'bout to get real interesting again, apparently.

For one: Saturdays have to change, now.

No idea what the Lord intends me to do, other than what I had been doing. But He's not permitting continuation of what has been the case. That was made very clear today, without a single word being necessary.

And, as before, there was the option to not heed. But that never goes well, although He does redeem through discipline.  

I asked for help in howsoever He would have me communicate the matter, and found it done before a thought had ever entered my mind to contradict the given direction.

Then proceeded to return to home-space and nearly incited an argument with one of the ladies that stays in the same house as me, entirely unintentionally. Just per random conversation. Just because words sometimes come across differently.

I did ask Him for this, though. And I'm grateful.
Being alive in Christ and alive to Christ does mean being dead to the world.

Not merely dead, in terms of being insensate to the things of the world. But being, as Paul put it, of an aroma of death to those who are in the world.

Both.

Good times.

So, work promises to become increasingly interesting, too.
Not that it hasn't been. Continued submission, loving obedience, and circumspection. Continued resting in the love of Jesus, abiding in His constant presence.

Nothing to dread, in other words. Jesus has got this--He's got me well in hand. He's the one who put me there, and here. He's the one who lines out every day. He's the one who gives what need be said, when it need be said (and has me bite my tongue--sometimes literally, though not hard--to keep me from varied impulse to speak without His prompting).

Not that I am perfectly aligned to His will or heed Him perfectly.

Oh, no.

I long for that.

But there's constant faltering. And even two moments of being very blatantly given over to impatience and harshness on Friday, alone. Apologies and grief. Prayer continues.

Terrible.

But I trust Him to continue His work in me--I'm not capable in any way of making myself conform to His image, apart from His intervention. It's His life in me, through me, or nothing but dross. Either He tests and transforms, or I won't change.

So, church might be pretty interesting tomorrow, too. We'll see.
Hopefully no ominous threats. Hopefully no attacks.

As, seriously--we, none of us, sometimes know entirely what spirit we're giving over to.

They try to get sneaky, too, even. Try to do stuff in a way that seems godly, even gently prodding. Which has been the most insidious, especially when coming through beloved brethren.

And I'd really still rather He would move this other church where I'm living than move me. But, I'm awaiting direction, either way--doesn't matter what I want, but what His will is.

There is some seriously fearful stuff hereabouts, though. Just being immediately adjacent really is enough to be odd, at times. Seriously odd. If the Lord hadn't prepared me in the way He's done, I'd constantly be in a state of terror.

God is greater, though. And He's faithful. Totally faithful. And He loves me, more than I could ever manage to fall out from.

So, when I have been wrapped up in anxieties--when I've been distracted by fear's slithering whispers, when my attention falls from praising my Maker to considering the things of this world overmuch: He doesn't let go.

He may permit me to fall a bit, learning and being cleansed through the fires of trial...but He picks me back up and dusts me off. Kisses my wounds, cleans them, and bandages them with His healing love.

Every time, He's done this.

And that's been a lot--I've dived headlong into every single major error I could manage to find, online and elsewhere. Either per actual interaction or per immersion through total mental consumption.

Because...that's what sort of wretchedness I perpetuate. I have to know the ends and depths and breadths and widths of everything. A really ungood compulsion.

Which...He's bringing to heel. I hope. I believe.

I'm so grateful. I'm tired of running. Sick of it, really.
So, Lord willing, there'll be no more for a while.

I did get a pack of cigarettes yesterday, though. Still not entirely sure of why (...willfulness?, ...testing?, ...publicly mourning the state of the world openly?, ...becoming an object of scorn more tangibly while proclaiming Christ, as to perplex the wise who would be further confronted by their own futility of heart and mind?--so concerned with the keeping of the flesh while scorning the life of the spirit given through Christ, alone?), but He'll line it out.

There was brief opportunity to give (unintentionally and unexpected) witness, over course, last night. So, regardless that it may not be optimal?...He's still using the situation to some good.

Compared to going walking through the neighborhood after midnight, cigarettes seemed a slightly more reasonable course. I just get so sick of being hounded by fear, sometimes. The Spirit of the Lord does come in like a flood when the enemy attempts to blatantly overwhelm. Every time.

Eh. Things.

I am going to continue, hopefully, to not go walking at night right now. The cold weather does help check that impulse.

But for now, to go silently mourn.
And talk with the Lord.

Or just sit with Him.

It's been too long. Every moment not spent in solitude with Him...too long apart.

I want to listen better, again. Rather than only talking.