Jan 18 ~
And that day that I hit publish to the telling of talents, buried - that day, I said that I must stop hiding. That day I hit publish was the day I finally hit purchase. He had told us several months before to GO but I had danced the dance I dance so well and dragged my dancing feet. Argued. Analyzed. Over thought and under prayed. I had just about talked myself out of this simple, yet hard command to GO, when He started talking about these hidden talents and darkness. So, on that telling of talents day, I finally hit purchase and we are GOING. And one slight portion of talents lay exposed (oh, I do so hate to be exposed). It is not much, I do know. A few extra feet added to the thousands of others — it is not much, I do know. A few extra voices added to the chorus of cries that cry for our country's unborn — it is not much, I do know. Five extra faces in the mass of many, declaring that we care for the little lives being slaughtered — a few extra faces in the masses is not much, I do know. Our governing body will not notice another name or two of those present amongst the numbers, a few extra names who march to name the nameless. It is not much — I do know.
But, that telling of the talents, buried. Does cause me to wonder — is it not much? It is not much to add to the marchers? A few more names added, my name added to this war to name the nameless . . .
These hidden talents telling, this unprofitable servant cast into the outer darkness — causes me to wonder. Maybe, just maybe, it does matter. Maybe it does mean much. Maybe.
Maybe He already told us it matters! It matters when I march! It matters when I name the nameless. He already told us about this burying of talents — it is time to stop hiding.
And it does matter much. To Him.
The world will not notice my name added to the list of those naming the nameless — the world will tell me it is insignificant. Worthless. It matters not. But, I do believe the world doth lie.
It does matter. And it is much. To Him.
The buried talents, the hidden treasure. Matter much to the Giver. Insignificant, they are not.
So, we fly this week. Babies in tow. We fly and gather to declare to the gathering storm of darkness that they matter much, these little nameless, lost ones. They matter much — to us and to Him. And we cry for our country, weep for the world and we declare to the darkness — they matter much. To us and to Him. And my hidden talents now unearthed and exposed — matter much to Him.
Jan 28 ~
And we did fly, babies in tow. We flew and He reminded me again and again — it does matter much that you march, it matters much to Me.
What can I say? How can I describe those days spent amongst the masses — muttering my mantra, "It does matter much to Him." What can I say?
To the mother of many who has spent countless years wondering at whether I matter, to the mother who entered into motherhood with an offered abortion. Marching with the masses meant that we ALL matter — to Him. Marching with the masses meant that the world is still rightly spinning all these few decades later and life is still given by the Giver. And that day all those 22 years ago, I could not be the thief that took what was not mine to take. Marching with the masses confirmed a knowing in my little girl heart who knew all those years ago that carrying new life in that sacred space can sanctify a mother — if she will allow it.
And marching with the masses meant a new knowing — a deeper knowing — I matter to Him. With each footfall I fell firmly into a deeper knowing that I have always mattered to Him. From the very beginning of time and certainly from my first moment of existence — I have mattered to Him.
Why would all these decades later I march to know that I matter? Why would He fly me, insignificant me, to the capital of the most powerful nation in the world, to march with the masses to declare to the gathering storm of darkness that these tiny lives matter? And that I, in fact matter. I wondered why I would have wander to Washington to know.
But, it was there, those miles from home, amongst the masses that a deeper knowing He would whisper into my soul — that day in the doctor's office, if I had made another decision, exercised my right to "choose" — I would STILL MATTER TO HIM.
If I had done the unthinkable and stolen the life that had been gifted to me — HE WOULD STILL LOVE ME. No more. No less.
I matter, not because I "chose" rightly, but because He loves me. And He loves me not for the choosing I do or do not do but because HE IS LOVE.
And all those years into decades of attempts turned into failures, of my trying into exhaustion, of my working tirelessly to show a thing, a thing I did not believe but so desperately wanted — I matter much. To Him.
And here at this place with my failures mounting I hear a mantra in the masses marching — YOU. MATTER. MUCH. TO. ME.
I always did. I always will. No amount of teenage pregnancies, awful parenting, books unwritten, prayers unspoken will ever change that.
I matter much to Him.
My flesh may say different, but my flesh is not to be trusted, it is oh so weak and confused.
I matter much to Him.
The world surely spins a different tale, speaks to my lack of significance, my smallness. But, the world whips all too wild under a counterfeit master. Whips wild ... for a time.
I matter much to Him.
And this counterfeit master, he certainly tells an entirely different telling. He speaks always to my failure, he lies into an eternal unworthiness, an unworthiness he wants to work into my eternal unworthiness. He is a counterfeit master, a master liar — determined to speak me into a determination that I do not matter. He is a liar.
I matter much to Him.
I marched with the masses to name the nameless. And yet, Perfect Father was whispering my name. He was naming me into a new knowing, naming my new knowing.
I matter much to Him.
P.S. You may be noticing a growing trend to LIFE here. ALL LIFE, it is all He has taught me these years into decades. He loves all life and we as His people must do the same to push back this gathering darkness of hate. I feel I must come to this place again and again, my slow to learn heart needs to hear again and hear again, He loves ALL life. Bear with me please.
And that day that I hit publish to the telling of talents, buried - that day, I said that I must stop hiding. That day I hit publish was the day I finally hit purchase. He had told us several months before to GO but I had danced the dance I dance so well and dragged my dancing feet. Argued. Analyzed. Over thought and under prayed. I had just about talked myself out of this simple, yet hard command to GO, when He started talking about these hidden talents and darkness. So, on that telling of talents day, I finally hit purchase and we are GOING. And one slight portion of talents lay exposed (oh, I do so hate to be exposed). It is not much, I do know. A few extra feet added to the thousands of others — it is not much, I do know. A few extra voices added to the chorus of cries that cry for our country's unborn — it is not much, I do know. Five extra faces in the mass of many, declaring that we care for the little lives being slaughtered — a few extra faces in the masses is not much, I do know. Our governing body will not notice another name or two of those present amongst the numbers, a few extra names who march to name the nameless. It is not much — I do know.
But, that telling of the talents, buried. Does cause me to wonder — is it not much? It is not much to add to the marchers? A few more names added, my name added to this war to name the nameless . . .
These hidden talents telling, this unprofitable servant cast into the outer darkness — causes me to wonder. Maybe, just maybe, it does matter. Maybe it does mean much. Maybe.
Maybe He already told us it matters! It matters when I march! It matters when I name the nameless. He already told us about this burying of talents — it is time to stop hiding.
And it does matter much. To Him.
The world will not notice my name added to the list of those naming the nameless — the world will tell me it is insignificant. Worthless. It matters not. But, I do believe the world doth lie.
It does matter. And it is much. To Him.
The buried talents, the hidden treasure. Matter much to the Giver. Insignificant, they are not.
So, we fly this week. Babies in tow. We fly and gather to declare to the gathering storm of darkness that they matter much, these little nameless, lost ones. They matter much — to us and to Him. And we cry for our country, weep for the world and we declare to the darkness — they matter much. To us and to Him. And my hidden talents now unearthed and exposed — matter much to Him.
Jan 28 ~
And we did fly, babies in tow. We flew and He reminded me again and again — it does matter much that you march, it matters much to Me.
What can I say? How can I describe those days spent amongst the masses — muttering my mantra, "It does matter much to Him." What can I say?
To the mother of many who has spent countless years wondering at whether I matter, to the mother who entered into motherhood with an offered abortion. Marching with the masses meant that we ALL matter — to Him. Marching with the masses meant that the world is still rightly spinning all these few decades later and life is still given by the Giver. And that day all those 22 years ago, I could not be the thief that took what was not mine to take. Marching with the masses confirmed a knowing in my little girl heart who knew all those years ago that carrying new life in that sacred space can sanctify a mother — if she will allow it.
And marching with the masses meant a new knowing — a deeper knowing — I matter to Him. With each footfall I fell firmly into a deeper knowing that I have always mattered to Him. From the very beginning of time and certainly from my first moment of existence — I have mattered to Him.
Why would all these decades later I march to know that I matter? Why would He fly me, insignificant me, to the capital of the most powerful nation in the world, to march with the masses to declare to the gathering storm of darkness that these tiny lives matter? And that I, in fact matter. I wondered why I would have wander to Washington to know.
But, it was there, those miles from home, amongst the masses that a deeper knowing He would whisper into my soul — that day in the doctor's office, if I had made another decision, exercised my right to "choose" — I would STILL MATTER TO HIM.
If I had done the unthinkable and stolen the life that had been gifted to me — HE WOULD STILL LOVE ME. No more. No less.
I matter, not because I "chose" rightly, but because He loves me. And He loves me not for the choosing I do or do not do but because HE IS LOVE.
And all those years into decades of attempts turned into failures, of my trying into exhaustion, of my working tirelessly to show a thing, a thing I did not believe but so desperately wanted — I matter much. To Him.
And here at this place with my failures mounting I hear a mantra in the masses marching — YOU. MATTER. MUCH. TO. ME.
I always did. I always will. No amount of teenage pregnancies, awful parenting, books unwritten, prayers unspoken will ever change that.
I matter much to Him.
My flesh may say different, but my flesh is not to be trusted, it is oh so weak and confused.
I matter much to Him.
The world surely spins a different tale, speaks to my lack of significance, my smallness. But, the world whips all too wild under a counterfeit master. Whips wild ... for a time.
I matter much to Him.
And this counterfeit master, he certainly tells an entirely different telling. He speaks always to my failure, he lies into an eternal unworthiness, an unworthiness he wants to work into my eternal unworthiness. He is a counterfeit master, a master liar — determined to speak me into a determination that I do not matter. He is a liar.
I matter much to Him.
I marched with the masses to name the nameless. And yet, Perfect Father was whispering my name. He was naming me into a new knowing, naming my new knowing.
I matter much to Him.
P.S. You may be noticing a growing trend to LIFE here. ALL LIFE, it is all He has taught me these years into decades. He loves all life and we as His people must do the same to push back this gathering darkness of hate. I feel I must come to this place again and again, my slow to learn heart needs to hear again and hear again, He loves ALL life. Bear with me please.
❤
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