In the darkest hour of the night as I tossed between sleep and wake, I heard, an audible voice. There was a depth to the voice. It was sincere, stern, yet full of compassion. Clear. Distinct. Familiar yet different.
“Get Out of This Place.”
Truth is, I am not sure what, This Place, is. Not exactly. I have no idea how I got here. You see, it’s more than the physical space I’m in. There is a place that keeps me from finding my way out. I’m walking, running, moving, working, and somehow, ending up back in the same space I started in, each and every day. This Place.
A place where sleep escapes me until the early morning hours when I cannot seem to rouse despite the need for the start of the new day.
A place where the nagging ache creeps up by surprise when I least expect it and refuses to go away despite the need for work to carry on.
A place where I desire to do more but something perpetually gets in the way and before I know it, the day is gone despite the need for distractions to subside.
A place where I feel intimidated by others despite the need for bold confidence.
A place where brokenness seemingly abounds despite the need for merciful, gracious, loving truth to be shared.
A place where mundane emptiness resides despite the need for warm compassionate biblical love that leads others to truth without compromising the gospel.
This Place.
Get Out of This Place.
I find, even in myself, that we come into a place we don’t belong and we wait, pray, wait, and pray more for God to deliver us. Miraculously. With little to no effort on our part. We utter our prayers, maybe even shed a few tears, and we pray for deliverance. All along, like the children of Israel, we wander for years and years in the wilderness. Until we cry out with such desperation that we motivate ourselves to do whatever it takes to get out. Out of This Place so we can enter the promised land.
Our human nature is to stay in the rut seeking a way out but never really finding the way out all the while looking for God to do his part and deliver us on smooth paths into the Promised Land. The audible voice calling us out of This Place is our loving, compassionate, caring, protective Heavenly Father calling us to him. He knows, we cannot stay in This Place long or we will become complacent and comfortable in This Place. The place where we have left him to the side. The place where we merely exist. The place where we are of no good to ourselves, our family, our work, and, our God. He cannot use the tool that is not prayed up, fasted up, praised up, and seeking opportunities to do His work.
Friend, get out this place, the place that holds you hostage from your calling.
Holy Spirit, welcome, into, This Place. Flood This Place and fill the atmosphere. Welcome into this broken vessel. Your presence is what my heart longs for. I, humbly before you, on my knees, in This Place, raise my hands, lift my heart, and offer up a sacrifice of praise, seeking You because You choose to abide in the presence of my praise, and your presence is where I find my way out, of This Place.
Bobbie
“The Lord says, “I will rescue those who love me. I will protect those who trust in my name. When they call on me, I will answer; I will be with them in trouble. I will rescue and honor them. I will reward them with a long life and give them my salvation.””
Psalms 91:14-16 NLT
I feel This Place deeply. Some of it is biological with age for me . Some of it is the current state of affairs. Some of it is that I must rise takemy cross and follow Jesus as he instictednme the other night during my quiet time. I must interpret for me. Some days my confidence wanes, my spirit sags. I feel This Place.
But I am reminded by people like you that I can rise above this place. Your beautiful words, leadership and spirit helps us. Your confidence to speak out on subjects is inspiring. Your grace and humility are models for behavior. Thank you for recognizing and calling out what many of us feel and for sharing how to over come … the importance of prayer. You’re a blessing. Keep shining.