where waves grow sweet

We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ. 2 Corinthians 10:5

My first deep and very spiritual thought is: OMGOSH I WANT SUGAR!!! Oh, did I mention I’m a sugar fiend who is currently fasting from this tasty, addictive, and very comforting substance? I want to devour every last cookie in this well-stocked house. Or maybe just roar really loud.

There has been an intentional stripping of some significant things over the next couple of weeks, and perhaps beyond. I am hungry and thirsty for the Lord. For his word, his heart, his peace. Even more than I am for sugar or alcohol or entertainment or relationship. Or maybe even food. It’s a worthwhile tradeoff, I think, to lay down these things for a time and let those places be filled by the only One who satisfies; to sever myself from distraction, quiet my mind and emotions, and listen.

[It sounds so nice and peaceful, doesn’t it? Definitely. Except my brain is running around in my head like my old psycho hamster, Morgan, on her squeaky wheel. And my body is feeling kind of like Morgan’s angry face right before she would launch toward my hand to bite me.]

On my lunchtime prayer walks, the sweetest time of my day when my body moves and my mind calms down, the Lord has been meeting me in the relative stillness and touching deep places in my heart. Today, as I moved down the path, I saw so clearly how I have allowed myself to be dominated by my overwrought thought process and capricious emotions. I have listened to them intently, as though they provided some factual basis for making decisions and directing my life. But they don’t, because they can’t. There is nothing that they can ascertain of worth to me. All they can do is gather information from the natural, which does not – and cannot – take into account the spiritual realm where the heart of God, his wisdom, and his plans are found. And these, really, are the only things I’m interested in knowing.

Emotions are often loud, manipulative, and determined, drowning out the quiet voice of the Lord. Reason is equally resolute, often more subtle and proud, and draws me into a place of unbelief, creating a spiritual deafness… or at least the distraction of constant motion. I’m not saying that I should cut off my ability to reason or feel. That would be bad. What I am saying is that these things need to be held up to the word of God and brought into submission. So my job description right now is to lasso and hogtie every single thought and feeling that has made assertions, as well as some – or most – of the advice I’ve received. To take ‘em down until I can ascertain their value in light of Truth. To acknowledge the rule of God over every part of my life… down to each and every thought.

When I have regained rightful authority over the drunken mardi gras in my head, I will hear the Lord’s voice clearly and easily. It is a simple thing. He didn’t make it elusive or difficult. We have made it elusive and difficult. Often, I think, on purpose. Because we can play the ignorance card as long as we don’t hear. In all honesty, I’ve probably done this recently. As I begin to quiet down, I realize that I’m scared what the Lord will say. He is unfailingly good and has never yet made a poor choice for me. But he has fed me some hard truths. It is not always an easy dialogue and often requires tough action. But I’ve seen too much of what my way brings, and I want nothing more of it. Just his way. His voice. His heart. His mind. His plans. And his perfect peace.

By the way, I do have a wild side. Always have. And as I’m submitting myself to his rule, I think he’s going to open up some sweet and holy places for me to let out a righteous and mighty [non-sugar-withdrawal-related] ROOOAAAARRRRRR…