Frozen with Fear

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When my heart is full, I feel I can speak to God freely and confidently. I delight in His Presence and find it easy to sing with joyful thanksgiving. I’m like a rich woman with large sums to bring to the temple’s treasury. Because I have an abundance, I hardly miss my offering. 

But in the days of drought, when my soul seems dark and frozen with fear, my fervor seems silenced by the frost. My larder looks empty, and my pocketbook bare. I struggle to warm myself with layers of guilt and sweaters of activity, yet find no relief and end up feeling needier.

If my Father owns all, then my abundance isn’t a gift He needs. His desire is me in totality. Simply every part of who I am. 

True prayer, then, isn’t the excellence of my words, but the depth connection of His Presence. He likes it best when His Spirit has free access with my spirit to exchange our heart’s cry (Romans 8:16). Prayer is the burning flame of my love for Him. Hidden away from the world’s draft, this inner pilot light remains lit regardless of wind and weather. I can go to Him in emptiness, and I can go to Him in abundance. Whether I have little or much, He knows my heart (Psalm 44:21). 

Because He knows my heart and loves my initiation toward Him, He waits for me. Stays until I am willing to reveal my innermost state to Him; waits until I will come to speak to Him of joy and pain, gladness and sorrow, devotion, and wavering.

“Father, You know me. You see every season, every feeling, every lovely praise, and every ugly blemish. Take my life, for, without Your help, I know not how to surrender it. Reveal the areas that nourish my self-love and feed my strength. 

“Immerse me in Your Love. Wash me with wave after wave of Your Holy Mercy and Favor. When drenched in Your Love, I will no longer fear, for Love rinses aside every anxiety (1 John 4:18). You are what I truly desire. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.