Trumpets

It happens every time.
I sit and dig deep inside my heart, trying to find the place where I hold all my feeling.
I come to Him lifting up the cold, slow muscle.
Feeling like I'm bringing a broken toy to my dad.

Fix it.

This may be His favorite prayer of mine.
Because He answers me every time.
Reaching into the depths of my heart
and waking me up.

When the resurrected Jesus overcomes me
I am reminded Who it is I worship
Who it is who loves me
Who it is I love.

Suddenly what was numb and lifeless
is warmed by His closeness.
Unbidden tears spill down my cheeks
as if with the words "rest in Me" I am awakened.

He restores.
And I watched His mighty hand at work beside me.
He redeems.
Humbling us and bringing us together.

It is His voice, as a trumpet, I have been straining to hear.
In the middle of this battle, this war
I need His direction, His guidance
To be reminded He has already won.

But this life is not just a battle.
There are sweet moments, meant just to bring a smile to our faces.
Serendipitous.
Refreshing.

Wake us up.
Open our ears and our eyes.
Sing over us.
Lead us in the way we should go.