birthdays . . .

I enjoy the reflection of such days . . .

Six years ago, on this day, I found myself in my bedroom. I slowly went to my knees and started to speak. Nothing intelligent or formal came out of my numerous thoughts. All I remember saying was, "Please God . . . I know I do not deserve it . . . but please save me from hell."

I was thirteen years old at the time and had heard the gospel since infancy . . . over and over again. I "accepted" the fact that Christ had died for me. I had made a commitment previously to serve the LORD. But, as I thought things through, I reasoned that God had received a "good" deal when I decided to follow Him. God gradually opened my eyes. I saw myself in truth. Filthy. Sinful. Prideful. Selfish. I deserved eternity in hell.

I remember highlighting that day on the calendar and, as a result, I remember it each year. (Although, in reality, God predestined me to be His child before the foundations of the world) But today always serves as a day of testing my heart. Does my gratitude go beyond my words and prayers? Has any idol of affection taken His place in my heart? Is He still my first love?

These first months of marriage have taught me a fresh that nothing (no matter how pure, noble or wholesome) can take His place in my life. I cannot float off of my husband's relationship with God. I cannot look to Luke for all of my joy and happiness. I love my husband. But God is still my all. In Him alone do I find life.

He is the source of my joy. Joy in my fellowship with Him. Joy in the fact that my heart can still feel conviction. What horrid death there is in quenching the Holy Spirit and finding yourself with a heart that can no longer feel.

How I long to daily stand in boldness, able to say, that there is nothing between me and my Savior.