Stop.

Stop.

That's all she said.

It was enough.

That word penetrated like nothing else could, the hardness in my heart brought on by:
too much sun, too little shade,
too much drought, too little rain
too much heat, too little strength
too much pressure, too little respite....
too many sand fleas..too little cover...
too many questions..too few answers.

Sometimes all it takes is a word.

One word.

To turn your world upside down.
Or should I say....right side up?

My prayers were ended.
My lips were silent.
My heart was still.
My mind empty.
My hands hanging.

For all intents and purposes.
To my limited understanding, this more than slightly resembles a dead person.

If you know me at all...you know I have confessed quite openly to being performance driven.
Something that is inherently woven into my DNA..and is being slowly and methodically killed off in my life.
Translate this innate behavior over into a relationship with the creator of the Universe and you get a girl of 40 years old... searching the scriptures/and the cosmos for ways to guarantee that my actions will add up to successful encounters with God ...and fantastic outcomes in my daily life as a result.

However...being human, my capacity for 100% consistency in the behaviors necessary to my mind, to guarantee the continuous flow of blessings of the Master of the Universe; this capacity?
Is severely limited.
Therein is my dilemma...
I am always searching for the reason..the error..the sin..that is hindering the flow.
The ever elusive key.
I see myself excavating a dig...( the internal landscape of my life) and continually bringing to the surface items unearthed ....and throwing them on this huge altar overseen by this massive, perfect, HOLY being.
I have my hands full as you can imagine.
I am covered with dirt.
I am sweaty.
I am sunburned.
I am exhausted.
I am a slave to the process.

The burden of self excavation is unbearable.
It cannot be borne for long.

It was not meant to be borne by me at all.

STOP.

My silent scream was: "I can't!"

Finally, yesterday I was so far gone...I could.

Yes...finally.

I could.

Stop.

God spoke.

Cheryle listened.

She relayed the message.

My mind was done.

My spirit was open.

I was able to be breached.

At my core I knew.

And accepted.

My life is a prayer.

NOT just my words.

I am not just IN Christ.
He is also IN me.

I live on the altar.
In the fire of the presence of God.
His holiness does the revealing.
The purifying.
The cleansing.
The living.
The dying.
The resurrecting.

Where ever I am.
What ever I am doing.

Yesterday I looked my life square in the eye.
Acknowledged it.
And went and watched a movie.
With a glass of wine.

I realize that the closer I get to God....the more I am aware of my machinations to manipulate him.
I don't come to him without strings.
I realize that I am trussed up with my desires, urges and expectations...my thirst for knowledge and understanding...
...of Right and Wrong.
I am bound by homesickness for God alone that is masked in a million ways of my own creating.
Only God can make me alive...and sustain that life.
I can't quicken myself.

STOP.

There is a passage in a book I read ages ago by Gene Edwards...called "The Choice" that gives imagery to this profound truth:

"...when she was least thinking of any purpose behind her supplications...something began happening within her. Like a fire at the edge of a field, (His) peace invaded a small corner of her soul....."

Yesterday I got it.

..and when I finally stopped.... something funny happened...

God didn't.