This is a growing community (Thank you, Jesus!), so please don't feel that you have to visit every single person that links up. We are all on a time budget. That being said, I do invite you to pray and ask God which blogs to visit simply because there may be words for you left in that place or words that God has given you to share to those specific people. And, while you are there, as you write in the comments of another's blog, would you offer up a prayer for them? (If you would like to be on the email list for reminders and prayer requests, please let me know in the comments.)
Lately, I've been feeling pressure. The heaviness that presses on my heart daily comes from this taskmaster that wields an ugly black whip, a long list of things to do, and a standard of perfection for all assignments.
The task-master is me, of course.
As I struggle under this self-inflicted crap, I keep hearing this whisper:
Today. Look for the abundance given this day. Put down the tasks. Receive abundance.
I walk outside, greeted by the lovely Silverado Sage that is in bloom in my backyard. God tells me to take a picture, for it is at its peak and soon the petals will start falling to the ground. As I walk up to it, it is covered in hundreds of bees. Literally, on every small flower, there is a bee, hungrily slurping up the gifts residing in the crevices of the purple petals. (If I did not have a slight fear of the bee sting, I would have gotten a wee bit closer, but alas, I am not that brave.)
Here the bees are reveling in the abundance of this gift from God. They are receiving the nourishment that is crucial for them to live into their calling, to live into their purpose, to do what God intended them to do.
I suppose you could say that collecting the nectar is simply part of their job, that they are in fact working, but for this moment, I'm thinking, even so, that is a pretty spectacular part of the tarrying. And perhaps it takes a bit of work for me to shrug off the taskmaster so that I can fly to the place in which I can drink and drink deeply. But the act of drinking, of drinking in, of tasting the sweet, and letting it flow through my body, nourishing the core of my being, if this is work -- let me do more. Let me do more of this and less of that which is born because of the whip. Let me do more of this and less of that which is born of lifeless obligation. Let me do more of this and less of that which only esteems me in the eyes of man.
I am praying for you, sweet ones, that in this week, you will be drenched in the sweet work of drinking from the heart of the Father. I'm praying that you find rest, that the honey would drip off your chin, that the nectar would bring nourishment to your soul.