It was always yours.
When I was five, and I wanted to be a Disney princess so badly.
That was yours.
When I wanted to be a singer-dancer-ballerina-actress, and I didn’t know how I could possibly be satisfied with living a normal life, you were speaking desire.
And that was yours.
My heart was yours before I knew it. Before I knew my heart. Before I knew the reality of you holding my heart, of you forming my heart. Of you protecting my heart.
Your power isn’t dependant on my awareness of it. Your power is the shout of reality crashing into the very essence of who I am.
And you saw, when I went to concerts and got overwhelmed. When I went to retreats and church events and had this desire to be seen, to be called out as more. You saw when I wanted to be the one on stage, and suppressed it, because I thought it was pride.
That was yours.
You saw my big plans for friendship, for community, even when I was in kindergarten. My desire for everyone to come together and love each other.
You saw my disappointment when I looked to my own strength. When the people around me let me down, when I let me down, because I just kept saying to you, “No, no, it’s fine, it’s not a big deal, sit down, I got it, they got it!”
That was yours. And even then, you were working right in front of my face, whispering the simple scream, I love you.
You saw me play with my baby dolls and name my future kids. You saw when I sat down with my Barbies and acted out crazy, adventurous romances, filled with the unexpected and good defeating evil.
That was yours. Even when my desire for love and pursuit left me spinning when I became a slave to the desire, instead of allowing desire to fuel my surrender to you.
It was always yours. It was never mine to hold, it was never on me.
So when chaos has me grasping, I say to the storm, no. Because I have captured the attention of the One who is faithful. The One who calls desire good. The One who breathes His truth into my heart again and again, who waits for me, who has constructed the best possible timeline for me to receive all that He has won for me.
The One who gives me more.
And starting to believe this– throwing myself into this truth, into this reality– that has stood long before I understood it– has me absolutely speechless, absolutely breathless at the glory unfolding around me.
Because the daughter of the King was not meant for ordinary. Ordinary for the daughter of the One who brings the dead to life means miracles, it means radical, it means a reckless and scandalous sort of love, it means revival, it means chains breaking, it means songs being sung into the darkest places, it means the impossible becoming possible, and it means every single desire fulfilled.
Wow. It’s all yours, Daddy. The hugeness of desire– it was never mine to hold.