Putting my arms back on.

Last night, I spent a beautiful hour in worship at church.  Every song kept talking about what God has done and who He is and what He’s doing.

This is what He’s up to:

The lost are found.

The blind will see.

The lame will walk.

The dead will live.

And You, our God, forever You will reign.

It’s pretty incredible.  That’s what God’s getting up to these days.  He also found me an internship that pays and seems like it will be a perfect fit for me.  I suppose that’s what happens when Jesus gives you three empty months and says trust me.  BOOM. Internship.

You wanna know what I’ve been up to while God is out there finding people and restoring them and reigning?  Oh, I’ve just been hiding in a little, dark corner with some bitterness, frustration, unforgiveness, and anger to keep me company.

I mean, I don’t always live there, and not all of me lives there.  I guess an apt image would be to say that my arms live there.  Just a part of me, but a significant part.

As we worshiped and sang about what God is doing, it struck me that my arms don’t belong there.  It was like Jesus was saying to me look what I’m doing.  Remember that this is what I want to include you in.  Remember who you are and that you are mine.  It’s destructive to stay in that corner.  My arms have been missing out on being a part of what God’s up to.

It takes a little while to put your arms back on.  Stitches are required (at the very least), and those have to heal.  But at least the arms can live in the light, out of the corner where you stew on past hurts and get nowhere.

I’m going to put my arms back on this week.

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