The words hit hard that day, sinking deep into my heart where it was recognized as the conviction it was meant to be. From that moment on I committed to always be able to testify intimately to His work in me. I never wanted to be found again in the place where I had willingly given up the generous offer. I am always looking. Always searching for the lesson, for the Word that is spoken just for me. It is always there. Every time. Without fail. My reflection of Him is so often shabby and distorted, but Spirit reminds me that the work which will yield the most glorious results will be hard and messy. Would I be willing to submit myself to His masterful hand? Would I be willing to endure the shaping and molding that would come from this yielded spirit? The heart desire surfaces again gently reminding that I must be ready to give an account. And to give an account, work is necessary.

Too much time has been wasted bathing in the lukewarm water. Forgive me Father. What is this measure of patience He has with me to mercifully wait while I weigh options and tinker with Truth? With brazen confidence I allow myself room to consider His commands and desires for me. Cries for forgiveness find their way up from the inner most parts of my heart. The prayer of surrender is birthed and I give myself up to the refining. Shabby and distorted is the reflection seen in the mirror. Cleansed and usable is the reflection seen in His eyes.

Ask me and I will tell you -every time. I will tell you how His glory and grace wash over me every moment of every day. How he is sanding away the filth and shaping the seemingly unusable into purpose. How he takes human ears and tunes them to know His voice and his precious commands.

Ask me and I will tell you.

I will give the account. My heart will confirm and my mouth will testify.

Every moment of every day.

I am given over to the Hand of my Creator.

Father hold me here.