The Altar


It happened today. One of those Sundays where you are going about your business, your day, your Sunday routine- sitting in the church pew listening and nodding- not expecting anything for me. Then it started to hit me. The tears welled up hot in my eyes and somehow I knew what was coming next, Was. For. Me. Not only me- but like listen up, girl, I am about to speak to you right from my word. I was laser-focused in as my pastor read the words of Psalm 73, and they washed over me and made sense of my feelings, and my mess.

As humans, we don't have the capacity or the mental ability to order and make sense of all of our feelings and latest struggles. And as moms, sometimes our brains just feel like mush at the end of the day. But lately I've had a very specific struggle with Instagram,  something I've never used, and something that has been making me feel A LOT of mixed feelings. I'm not going to go into the details, but I have a feeling I don't have to because you probably feel a lot of the same feelings too: jealousy, envy, righteous indignation and personal indignation. And then the question of "why" is always next in line. Why am I feeling this? Why is she posting like this? Why can't I....

Oh, but this day. This beautiful, beautiful, cold and snowy Sunday when God reminded me, in a heart way, not in a head way that I can explain; He reminded me of just... it all. And it felt peaceful and right there on my knees, crying it out in this small, imperfect church. Thank you, Jesus.

I don't usually want to go at first. Every altar experience I've ever had, my first inclination is, "oh please, not now." These boogers, these tears, this makeup smearing, this walk, the looking and watching, the unknown, the "will I have to try to explain this to someone?"

But oh, I had to go today. I knew I was being lead and pulled. God still loves me and still wants me to start over after all of this slighting I've done to him.

I have to confess it right here that I've wanted so much for myself that is worldly, and popular, and successful and smart. I wanted to be that woman. And I took my gift, again, the one that he's blessed me and opened a door for- and I put it up on the altar of my life where only he should be. I pretended that I was just a little busy and would turn back around and look at him as soon as I had time. Telling him, "I'll be right back", as I secretly bow down to my idol. 

That was probably what was basically happening in my spirit- although I do KNOW him to be true and right and God and Lord, and all things good. And isn't it funny that it's not in the knowing? We can know that He's God and serve a dozen idols or one precious sin that we can't square up with God eye-to-eye on. So we look down or away and pretend not to notice because, WE JUST DON'T WANT TO DEAL WITH IT RIGHT NOW.

But meanwhile we are dying, a slow suffocation, not having the father's spirit breathe life into us. Not allowing him to do the CPR. Why in the world?

And today, he spoke those Psalm 73 words to me so crystal clearly and made sure they went in. Air. And he's still making sure that I know that it's HIM who is saving me, and not myself. 

Thank you, Jesus, for bringing me to the altar today. Thank you for newness and a fresh start. For cleaning out the clutter and garbage of my spirit, and setting my gaze back upon one, simple, remarkable truth. You.


"Oh come to the altar, the father's arms are open wide. Forgiveness was bought with, the precious blood of Jesus Christ."