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10.08.03 - 11:31 pm Be careful what you pray for. God just might answer. For the last few weeks, I've been begging God to refine me, purify me, rid me of the filth in my life. I had a feeling He'd answer, too, because my motives were so pure. I knew parts of it would be painful, but since the benefits outweighed the cost, I just kept praying. I'm so tired of my letting my habits of thought hinder everything He'd like to do. When God warned me that it was “going to hit like a ton of bricks,” I honestly thought he was talking about the insane amount of coursework I’ve been swimming in. Last week I got a bit of rest in the eye of my hurricane and hurriedly began to prepare for the rest of it to blow through. I wanted to handle the final phase of storm better than the first, so I braced myself and relinquished my compulsion to carry needless burdens. And I still prayed that God would begin revealing the things that prevented a lifestyle of genuineness. Then it happened. An unwelcome visitor appeared in three dreams and abused my spirit. It was invasion of privacy in the worst sense because it’s impossible to punish, escape, or avoid my own subconscious. “Who can decide what they dream? …But dream I do.” Yesterday was undoubtedly the worst day of the semester as I tried to deal with the gifts of the phantom. All of it crushed my soul, and I couldn't fathom from what corner of the earth this demon came. Little did I know it was within my heart the entire time. It wasn’t until 1 a.m. in the midst of the pain that the Godsend reminded me of the aforementioned ton of bricks... and I understood. In order for silver to become pure, it must be placed in the fire until the impurities separate and rise to the surface. At just the right moment the refiner then removes the dross from the silver, and he is left with something useful to his business. In precisely the same way, all of my mistakes and intentional wrongs must be brought into the light of my own recognition in order for God to skim them off the surface. Anything I’d buried in my heart, cast aside to face another day, glossed over, or cloaked in something more fashionable necessarily had to make another appearance as it passed from my soul. Being held in the fire hurts. It’s uncomfortable, and I’d enjoy more cozy way to become the girl I’m called to be. I’m just thankful that He knows when it’s getting too hot, but thankful He leaves me in there long enough to see His face reflected in the liquid mirror. I'm not foolish enough to believe I'm done. There’s still more. There will always be more. And I’m okay with that. Quote of the Day, about Arnold becoming governor: "Call him the governator or the gropenator, we're going to see some action now." ~Jim Hall, CA
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