And, just like that, it’s summer again, it’s Sunday again. Just like that, the sun’s up again, and just like that, we’re still breathing.
We’re still breathing.
Hearts filled with stories that words could never express. Minds filled with images of bloody battle fields and dreams that are just starting to wake up. Eyes drinking up the green of June, skin warmed by the wind that’s no longer howling like it did through the winter.
We’re alive. And He’s calling us to arise higher still.
We’re here in the morning season that comes after the breaking season, when we’ve stumbled around in the dark for so long, pierced by rejection and disappointment, shards of shattered dreams pressing into feet, telling us we’ll never walk again. Once we enter into the morning season, it’s still scary. Because we might not be bleeding, but the scars are still there.
It takes courage to let go and trust that He’s still going to make wrong things right. That He caught every tear we cried and allowed the screams that left our lips to stir up His soul. Because that’s exactly what’s happened.
We don’t see the fulfilled promise yet, we don’t understand what’s been happening yet, but are we going to stay lurking in the tombs, or are we going to go to where He’s calling us?
It takes courage to surrender what it looks like for wrong to be righted. It takes courage to keep stepping away from the things that we’ve laid down. It takes courage to feel the how much we really are out of control.
The Resurrection is out of our control. It’s all out of our control.
We’ve been awake all night, and now– friend, I give you permission to leave the breaking season. I give you permission to believe that it’s all okay. Give yourself permission to believe that He’s never going to let you down.
Feel the Resurrection sun on your face. Feel the Resurrection coursing through your veins. You’re alive and He’s not finished. He’s here, and He makes wrong things right.
And disappointment matters, but it doesn’t dictate who you are. Because disappointment can’t stop the reckless love of God. Because rejection isn’t reality when you’ve been forever chosen, before you’ve even taken a breath.
The worship doesn’t stop here. The King doesn’t stop here.
It’s a new season. And we’re not constricted, because He’s not constricted. We don’t have to dialogue with fear, because we’re royalty and our Father is above it all.
I thought I knew what was coming next in my life, in so many different ways. And now, things that have been so present over the last two years have simply slipped off. I’ve walked through them. They’re gone.
It’s a new season.
My hands are empty. Are your hands empty, friend? This is what comes from surrender. It takes courage to feel the silent space, when you’re still out at sea and the waves are still kind of pushing you around, but sun has just begun to shine. When there isn’t complete closure, but you choose to believe that He’s going to completely right the wrong. When you don’t understand what that looks like, but you know that He’s good.
More is coming. The times, they are a-changin’, as Bob Dylan so eloquently sang.
I’m writing this as a declaration over my life. I’m writing this because I believe that greater things have yet to come, and I want to believe it more. I’m believing it so hard today, that I’m believing it for you, too.
He’s calling out to you, asking you to give a little more. And He sees that you’ve given so, so much. But He wants it all. So whatever is left. . .let’s lay it down.
It’s a new season. You’re free, and He’s giving you all the courage that you need to step into everything He’s asking you to. He’s not finished. So here, as with everywhere else, let us surrender.