When I am asked, “What is your passion?” How do I respond. You got it, It depends on who is doing the asking. Also, it depends on what stage I am in my life. Unfortunately, I don’t often mention the one who takes up many of my daily thoughts.
When I started gymnastics at school, that was it. When I started to water ski well, play tennis, those were passions. When I had my first boyfriend, he was my passion. When I got an exciting job, that was my passion. My husband, my kids, of course, are my passion. My writing, once lying dormant but now fully awakened, is my passion.
When I first began a relationship with Jesus, he was my passion. I was excited to learn about him, to read the latest recommended book, to read through the Bible, trying to fathom his very existence when he was here on earth all those years ago, imagining being there and watching his miracles, eating some of the multiplied bread and fish, the full charge of excitement and joy when he ascended into heaven, leaving us with everything we needed to keep things going and carry on his work. I loved to hear people talking about him, to hear their dramatic stories of changed lives. I loved the community of church. I still love those things, but the freshness, the excitement has dwindled away somewhat. I long to get it back. But the truth is I have it, I have him inside of me, and no matter how I feel, I can rest in the truth of knowing that. I don’t have to be excited every day, I know the truth, and it sets me free.
If I could only express this mystery more clearly to others. If I could only get a few of my tears out, which are waiting to be caught by Jesus, I think I would be able to talk more freely about him.
But right now, I am okay where I am, and he is more than okay with me.
Today is Day 16 of the series Prison Break of Thoughts – 31 Days of Inner Release, that I am writing for #write31days challenge.
The Tear Stealer 