Take my Life, Let it BE –
Consecrated, Lord, to Thee;
Take my Moments and my Days,
Let them flow in ceaseless praise.
The song came up next in my Spotify playlist as I was driving to work this week. Let it BE, Lord? Really? Why doesn’t the song say, “Take my problems, let them go?” After all, don’t you want our seasons of life to be filled with joy, peace, clarity, direction, love, and everything wonderful in between…?”
I’m a Doer. I walk too fast, and geez, Emily, why don’t you stop and smell the roses?! Is your life a chase? 🙂 To which I reply, “No, no! I have things to do, people to see, places to go, and dreams to fulfill! I’m excited about the next thing!”
The next thing. We are always looking towards or for the next thing, aren’t we? My Mom said I crawled at 7 months. And when I learned how to crawl, I learned to walk at 8 months. And when I learned how to walk, I wanted to climb up on the counters and tables and chairs to SEE and peer over the heights of whatever I couldn’t see to catch a glimpse of what was BEYOND. And when I finally got up on the edge of the counter, whoopsies! I slipped and cracked my chin open and my Mom takes me to the hospital 5 times for stitches before 5….because, well, I was a busy-body-being…
I scan back through the years, through my seasons of life, and not much has changed, I suppose. I am still so good at running through seasons of life checking things off my To-Be List (I call it the “To-Be List” because there is a difference between the Identity-I-Want-to-Be List and His-Child-State-of-Being list.) If I’m enjoying a season of life, I go 120% like a madman, living whole-heartedly and soaking it up, and driving myself into the exhaustion of production — and then the season is over, and I look back, and wonder, gosh, maybe I should have stopped and smelled the roses more! Or, if I’m despising a season of life like a child refusing his green peas, I shrink back in fear, despair, anger, bitterness, sorrow, and doubt, and beg God to get me out of this season, and just grin and bear it and pray-to-God-on-my-knees that I won’t break and crumble and that somehow people will still think I’m confident and brave and getting things done and being a rockstar.
And, I chuckle because in every transition of life — whether a joy or a trial — in every ebb and flow of seasons — in every break of the chapter to the next one where you feel like a Nomad wandering through the Sinai desert, hoping to stumble upon the next camp and the next cloud covering that God promises to provide — I come right back to the same ole’ question: Who am I really, Lord? And, what do you want me to Be? And what is my life?
In every season of life, I believe we must ask God this question, and let His Spirit answer quietly to our souls as we ponder our true state of Being in Him. And with Spring upon us, I think of Psalm 90 as David numbers his days and discovers the dwelling place we find in God through time, through every season. Bear with me as I slightly modify this passage so that the theme can soak into your heart:
“Lord, you have been my dwelling place in all seasons...from [season to season], you are God…you return man to the dust. For a thousand seasons in your sight are but as yesterday when it is past, or as a watch in the night. You sweep them away as with a flood – they are like a dream. like grass that is renewed in the morning; in the morning each season flourishes, and is renewed; in the evening, each season fades, and withers away. For all our seasons pass away under your holiness; we bring our seasons to an end like a sigh. The years of our life are seventy, or even by reason of strength, eighty; yet their span is toil, and trouble; they are soon gone, and we fly away.
So teach us to number our seasons (days) that we may gain a HEART of wisdom. Satisfy us in the morning, in each season, with your steadfast love, that we may rejoice, and be glad all our seasons. Make us glad for as many days as you have afflicted us, and for as many years as we have seen evil. Let YOUR work be shown to your servants, and your glorious power to our children. Let the favor of the Lord our God be upon us, and establish the work of our hands in each season – yes, establish the work of our hands.”
Some things to note about this passage:
1) In every season, we can rest in the fact that God is our dwelling place, the beginning and the end of our travels through seasons. I’m not just talking about a physical dwelling place — but a dwelling place for our minds and hearts, when they are scattered and detoured and dashing about for answers.
2) 1,000 years is like YESTERDAY to Him. We are so impatient, aren’t we?! God’s Timetable isn’t our own – to keep us in a season, or to move us on.
3) Our days are (yes, get over your wrinkles and gray hairs growing in!) passing away — and their span is toil and trouble. My Mom always said to me, “Most of life is lived in the mundane. God’s love and blessings and the joys we have in this world, family, friends, and loved ones make it extraordinary — but most of life is pretty darn ordinary.”
4) God wants to teach us to number / count / cherish / ponder / treasure our days. Part of the state of Being God’s child, His daughter, His loved one, His own, is being still and knowing that He is God – the God of our hearts, our problems, our desires, our sins, our days, our seasons. I like the use the word cherish / ponder / treasure, because I think it isn’t just about having a sober, realistic view of our days, and their fleeting nature — it is about truly cherishing the present, and the present work that God is doing in and through us. Otherwise, He would have said, “Teach us to forecast our days.” 🙂
5) We cherish our days, THAT we may gain a HEART of wisdom. A lot of people are super wise – intellectually, mentally, in a worldly sense, in a professional sense. Even men and women of God are wise as it relates to their head-knowledge. But, in various seasons of life, are we letting God season our hearts…? The deep seasoning of the soul is a process by which we allow God to speak into the cracks of our thinking and logic, and through trial and error, fault and failure, testing and trembling, we allow God to season our hearts with the beauty, and surety, of His wisdom and commands and law and testimonies and statutes (Psalm 19).
6) Lastly, God constantly promises to satisfy us with His steadfast love. Steadfastness doesn’t alter through seasons and changing circumstances.
Last year, someone taught me a very valuable lesson in the art and vulnerability of love. This person taught me how to let someone love me, how to be cherished, valued, served, blessed, accepted for who I was without make-up, and loved for who I was in the ugliest moments when my true self came out. I argue that this is hard for Doers and Type-A women. We are good at loving ourselves, understanding ourselves thoroughly enough to comprehend how best to take care of ourselves, do things that make us feel good about our identity and body and career and status before God and man. But, we aren’t always good at being dependent, and letting God love us, our husbands love us, our families and best friends love us. And, we must learn to be loved by others, by first letting God love us — which requires BEING in His presence and open-hearted before Him; to give Him the time of day to declare His intentions towards us, His affections, His ardent and enduring loyalty towards us.
Sometimes familiarity is so much easier than vulnerability. And this is true of being vulnerable with others, but most importantly, with God. So I meekly stagger back up to His throne and into His arms, and hold up my face with tears streaming down my cheeks, and say, Yep, Here I am again, Lord. My messy self and my weary heart and my doubting mind and my distrusting thoughts towards you — take my life, let it BE – AGAIN.
BE yours, BE pure, BE holy, BE loved, BE resting, BE hope-filled, BE still, BE established, BE envisioned, BE healed, just BE. And, through the past 10 years of this cycle, I have been blown away by God’s steadfast love to accept my unveiled face and heart, raw and broken and tainted and bruised. And despite my heroic (and foolish) attempts to mold my own identity of being in this life and figure out “Who I am,” He says three words to me, season and season again — You. Are. Mine.
And, then I let all my hopes, dreams, visions, longings go up into the cavity of His love, and ceaseless Praise begins to flow out from my heart, because in the making of space for His love, and the letting go of my self-loves and thing-loves and doing-loves, there is a wide open plain for Him to consecrate me. To His covenant, to His promises, to His plan, to His timing for my present season, and future calling. It’s ironic, isn’t it? If we clench our fist tightly to hold onto all that we want to hold onto in each season of life, somehow everything seems to slip through the cracks of our fingers, even though we thought our hold was tight enough to keep everything intact. But, if we loosen our grip, and open up our hands so that He can take my life and let it BE (whatever He wants), somehow He ends up filling our hands with more than we could ever dream or dare to have landed into our lives.
Oh, Lord, truly, you have been our Dwelling place…in every season. From season to season, you are God. Establish us for your glory, and for our Good. Give us a heart of wisdom, as we number of seasons. Satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love. Make us glad for as many days as we have felt afflicted or bruised or battered or broken down by the disappointments of hopes deferred, of longings unfilled, of trials borne, of Your will awaited.