Wrapped in an old quilt I paced through the dim lit room reading this passage in the middle of the night.
“Just as rain and snow descend from the skies and don’t go back until they’ve watered the earth, doing their work of making things grow and blossom, producing seed for farmers and food for hungry, so will the words that come out of my mouth not come back empty handed. They’ll do the work I sent them to do.” Isaiah 55:10-11
Rewind several hours: I woke up from a restless sleep to get ready for my prayer shift. I glanced out the windows of our third story attic’s bay window to see an even layer of snow atop everything. It was the first snowfall of the year, and probably the first “first snow” I had seen in over a decade, coming from the desert. I’m not going to lie, it was a little magical that night.
I had been on a couple week long journey of being confronted with my own brokenness as it showed itself mostly in massive insecurity and fear around other people. It kept coming up and coming up until I couldn’t shove it down anymore. I got to this place in my heart where, while riding in the passenger seat somewhere on I70 eastbound between Kansas City and Indianapolis I said “Father, if I could ask for one gift from You it would be that I would experience/encounter/feel/really know that I am a son and You are my Father.”
Rewind a couple hours more from that prayer room shift: Lauren and I sat up together and had a very honest conversation about where we were in our hearts. She was going through her own version of pretty much the same stuff I was going through (maybe she’ll write some about that). I told her that I felt like the Lord was leading us into an intentional season of healing in this area of identity and sonship. After talking through some fears we landed on the same page.
So I landed in that prayer room looking out the sole window onto a snow covered parking lot asking God to confirm what we felt. It was in that physical place combined with a place of desperation in my heart that the Lord spoke. The exchange looked like this:
“In the few hours since I laid down to when I woke up to come here it snowed 1 inch of the purest whitest snow bringing us finally into our delayed snow season. First snowfall. What do you want to say to me through this, Father?”
“Even the season of death is still beautiful, Luke. Calm and light. Just like a garden is prepared for winter so your heart has been prepared for this winter season. Your experiences so far have been the compost and dried leaf covering over your heart. When spring comes you will have such fertile soil and life. Enjoy even the winter. Let the snow remind you of what I am doing inside you. This is largely an invisible season meaning you can’t see the soil enriching. It happens slowly covered by snow. Allow some things to die. Allow sin to die. I am using it and doing hidden work in your heart.”
I flipped to the Isaiah 55 passage and had all I needed. I am confident the Lord is in this.
So we are on a journey. A healing journey. I have not so much a picture, but a simple sense of what life could be after receiving significant healing and breakthrough in this area of sonship. You know, of what it would be like to operate out of a place of wholeness instead of brokenness and wounded-ness. No more impressing people, no more striving, to more fear-filled interaction, but a lot of peace and a lot of fun. A lot of fruit too. Natural healthy delicious tasty fruit!
With the Holy Spirit as our guide through we invite you to pray for us. May we really know (not just know about, or know the language) You as Father, and us as sons.
We also invite you to be open to the Lord’s leading to bring you into wholeness. As hard and impossible as it seems, let me encourage you that this is Jesus we’re talking about and this is what he loves to do! “He took the punishment, and that made us whole. Through his bruises we get healed.”(Isaiah 53) Maybe you can echo my final prayer of that night:
I am believing You for big things.You are a big God. I trust you.