These are the times of sheer back to school, new activities, and harvest business. No moments for sitting and pondering. No extra seconds for planning and studying. This is one load of laundry to the next, clothes in baskets, car tank always at a quarter full, dropping off, picking up, making lunches and dinner, nursing back to school bugs-kind of days.
I’m in over my head. B.U.S.Y.
I’ve been preparing lessons on the fly without the normal amount of book time to study up. All this forcing me to do some serious personal reflections with the Holy Writ. No time to see what MacArthur or Piper have to say. This has been a time of the Holy Spirit, my Bible and ME. And the steering wheel, or the emptying of a dishwasher, or even a thermometer stuck under an arm.

What are you trying to say to me, Lord? To them? Oh’ how humbling to be the vessel.

Last night, after another day of packed activity and conversations that probed my very soul, I arrived home to one hour to clean the house and finish up my notes for the lesson for the high school girls headed to my house. I had just gotten done putting brownies in the oven and picking up the kitchen when the doorbell rang. 4 students. 40 minutes early. Have mercy. My notes were going to be left unfinished and I was going to have to bank on what the Holy Spirit had been whispering to me all week. Hopefully, it would be a concise relayal because there had been no shortage of material covered in my tutoring by the Enlightener.

Sheets on my front lawn, a perfect fall evening, and a group of girls who would smile and nod. I closed the door on our time together and breathed out. Relief. Message lived. Message delivered.

And you know what? I would speak those same words again. Given hours and hours more to prepare, I’m certain I would share the same stories and scriptures. He BREATHED in ME. And that is enough for me.

They left and I wondered if hope was to be had with them. Would they understand and connect? Will any of them want more of Him? More of our time together? And I realized again, I don’t control any of that.

All I can do is cry out to the Lord and ask Him to BREATHE HERE. Blow that life giving breath through us. Through them. We did not take our first breath of life without Him giving it, we did not utter one repentant cry for salvation without His drawing in for us. Not one holy fire has fanned itself to flame. The Holy Spirit must blow.

And may He do so here. May He gather us in his hands, press us close to his mouth (close enough to hear) and blow. And for heaven’s sake may I have the good sense to fan that aflame.
May we all.

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