boiling.

you ask for things sometimes before you're really sure what you asked for. you look up to the sky, no matter where you are in your journey of faith, and you say, "God, give me ______." and you think you have this idea in your head of what that looks like. you think He's going to give you the thing you're asking for wrapped in a bow like a birthday present.

He doesn't though.

He boils you alive, instead. and you hate Him for it because it's so damn painful, and you say, "what the hell did you mean when you said you wouldn't give me a snake if i asked for bread? i'd prefer the snake to this boiling water." and He doesn't SAY ANYTHING. He tosses a couple of carrots into the water and stirs the pot like you're a spiritual stew.

then one day, you're sitting in a home you have sat in many times and you realize that nothing is the same. as the conversations around you are thick with confusion and too many pieces to know how to fit them together, you realize that you don't have so many pieces....that things fit...that you are sure and, dare i say it, secure. you realize that the rest has been boiled away leaving the water clear and clean.

and you look down and realize that you're clean, too. your skin is raw and sensitive and painful, but it's clean. the mess has been boiled away to reveal the very thing you were asking Him for in the first place. because He had already given it to you, but you were so confused with the mess around that you weren't even aware of it anymore. and there it is, bright as day staring you in the face.

it's my birthday today, and i got the thing i wanted most...the thing i've wanted for my birthday every year and never had the clarity to know i already had.

thank you, you people who speak into and build into my life. those of you who i got to see today and those of you who i ache to see (whether you're in texas, kansas, arkansas, colorado, or iowa).

you are what is left when the rest is boiled away.