I’m pouring out My Spirit in your life and you’re still holding up that silly little glass to catch it.

Last night at worship, you opened your hands to receive what you felt Me pouring out. Your hands are just a sieve. Laying out across the floor, posturing yourself as a surrendered vessel, felt inappropriate… but how much more can you receive when your entire body is postured to receive?

I’ve been hinting around and simultaneously speaking plainly for months now about what it looks like to live as a bondservant of Christ. A bondservant is one owned by another. They have nothing that is their own. For a bondservant, even their time belongs to their master. From the moment they wake up each morning until the close of day, they seek to know and do the will of their master above all else. This is the calling on the life of those who make the conscious decision to follow Christ as a Christian.

You asked Me to break your heart for what breaks Mine. Do you want to know what really breaks My heart? My children, My precious little babies whom I handcrafted in My image, are looking like cookie-cutter images of the world around them.

My children are living in spiritual poverty. THAT is what breaks My heart.

Are you tired of being double-minded yet - SAYING you trust Me, asking Me to lead you, and then rebelliously acting out of self-will instead of the radical obedience we recently talked about?

Yes? Then let’s make a game out of this struggle you’re facing. You seem to enjoy games. You’ve been playing the cat-and-mouse game of control at the enemy’s suggestion for 33 years now.

People have been telling Me about you. Don’t worry - it’s all good. You’ve got lots of people who love you and they tell me how encouraged they are by what you share. I’ve been told you’re telling anyone who will listen that I’ll adopt them. Obviously, you know your Daddy’s heart.

I’ve heard you telling friends that when they confess their sins to Me, I literally forget them. That’s true. Baby, you know I do that for My own benefit, not just theirs, right? I have NO desire to keep records of how messy people have wronged Me and you shouldn’t either.

Stop what you’re doing and go sit down. The housework can wait. We’re alone and I want to talk to you heart to heart.

You don’t even know what I’m going to say and your eyes are already filling with tears. Close your eyes and feel as I cradle your precious little face in My hands.

You. Are. So. Beautiful. You have never been more beautiful in your entire life.

You spent all those years chasing the approval of women you admired believing that if one of them would see something valuable in you that you would be worthy of respect.

Wake. Up.

That’s right. It’s 2:15 AM. You decided, without asking My opinion, that it would be more convenient to reschedule our meeting to 4:45 AM so you could have uninterrupted sleep, still honor the hour you committed to Me, and then have your Tuesday “Angel Armies” prayer call with the ladies from 6-7 as usual. Is 4:45 AM the hour you committed to Me?

Is that what this is? A commitment? An obligation?

Is that what I AM? Is that WHO I AM to you? 

Baby, “doors are open” faith is full of dead works.