Costly

Sitting with the paper right in front of me, dipping the end of the quill in the ink bottle, putting it to paper only for nothing to transfer. 

How many times have I dipped it into the ink and tried to let it flow to only end up with a blank canvas? Every time, endless times – nothing.

This season of my life has cost me everything. The cost has been so much more than anything I could have ever imagined. 

The melody of heaven is right there. I can hear it. I can feel my soul stirring and yet I cannot make sense of what I am hearing. But I know its heaven, so I take up my lamp, fill it with oil and sit ready on the hill. 

I do not have to look back far to know and see how I struggled with handing it all over. And by all of it, I mean absolutely everything. I knew this cost would be far deeper than anything I had ever witnessed before. I know I didn’t know how to hand it all over. 

But here I am. I look back and am reminded that I told God, I could never deserve His great love. I told Him to remove it all and leave only what is His. And I meant it with my whole heart, soul, and mind. 

Others have opinions of my life. How perfect it seems. The structure of my family. Endless opinions by what they think they know. The history. What could have been, what was. Failures and privileges. Those things were surrendered at the mercy seat ages ago. Those words, beliefs, and suspensions do not hold merit in my life. 

The cost within my life has been completely personal on a cellular level. As I sit here staring at a blank canvas, I only see the grip my flesh has on my life. 

I thank God for this time being hidden away. It has been hard, so hard becoming a new creation. Entering a new depth with God without anything. Only expecting to enter His presence and Him being enough. Completely enough. Enough in everything. 

I could have never counted this cost, but He is more than worthy. Holiness is a place where He dwells. It is who He is. When He calls me into the depths of His majesty, who am I to say the cost is too great? Where else could I possibly go? 

I can see the ink in the bottle being shaken by His hand and soon, His thumbprint will be the identity of my life.