The path home


I get lost sometimes. I isolate myself. Shut myself off. Hide. I long to shrink, to take up less space. I try to become invisible and then before I know it, it’s difficult to make my way back. The light is dim, the path hidden, my mind confused. By far the most disorientating part is when I can’t find Jesus. I know He never leaves me. I know that He is the beginning and the end. That His love never fails. That His mercies are new every morning. I know that nothing can separate me from His love. I know all these things and more and yet when I’m lost, the facts start to drown out the truth.

(I didn’t intend to be this honest.)

I’ve loved Jesus as far back as I can remember, I surrendered my life to Him the first time when I was 7. I know His love like I know the shades of grey, purple and blue in the sky. But when I’m lost it feels like the further I am from myself the more difficult it is to sense Him. We are inextricably linked and never more is this evident than when I’ve wandered from who I really am and the link becomes tenuous and the panic creeps in. I need to get back. I long to sense Father God’s love. To have the truth drown out the facts. To see my Jesus.

The path back is a well worn one, when I find it. I borrow others carefully written prayers and melodies. I listen when I cannot yet sing. I allow the music and words to wash over me and my heart stirs. The blanket of Jesus presence gently falls on me. And soon all I see is Him. My fears that drove me to hide are fenced in by His love. My failings are awash in His grace. My weariness is erased as I sit and wait for His strength. This path is marked with clarity and revelation of who He is. There is always more on this path, a new part of Jesus to discover. A fresh truth to devour. He becomes large as I worship Him and the link between Him and I grows stronger. My faith expands. My spirit fills again and again with the Holy Spirit. I sing then because I cannot, not sing. My heart bursts, it burns with first love and sometimes this shadlowland world is illuminated with the white light of His glory.

And I’m back. I’m alive again. Never more alive than when I’m worshipping my Jesus.   Never more fully Michelle, than when I’m gazing on Him. The psalms are my beacons in the lost place. Hymns and songs are the lamps at my feet. And I realise that Jesus has walked me out of the hiding place, sat me down at His table at the place that He has prepared for me, in full view of all and everyone. His daughter.   Worship leads me home.



(soundtrack for this post Steffany Gretzinger – The Undoing)


This post first appeared on blog  here in January 2015, I  accepted a kind invitation from my friends at Cincinnati Vineyard Womens Ministry to write a piece for them.


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