My perfectionism benefitted me at dance camp, but now it can be one of my most hindering traits.
Upon finishing writing one of these, I hit “enter” twice, change the text to bold, and write the next number. I’ve not thought twice about this, perhaps because it is insignificant at surface level. Today, it caused me to pause.
This began as a forty-day journey. I had a clear message from God to commune with Him because He had work to do in my heart. I knew that this - seeking Him and processing my healing with Him with words - was His chosen avenue for the transformation of my heart. I counted the days on my calendar and I set out with an end in sight (September 10th was the fortieth day).
A lover of structure and order, I was adamant that there could only be one thing per day that I recorded here. It made complete sense to me: God would give me one revelation per day for forty days and I would write about it. Organized with a timeline and a structure, I set out (I wonder what my heart, hands, and eyes looked like back then (see Twenty)…).
Faithful to this self-imposed structure initially, my flesh and inability to do things one hundred percent His way grew to be an obstacle, which led me away from what He called me to and into a well of distraction. The distractions I entertained prevented me from engaging in this, but in His goodness, He used them. Through them, He break down walls that prevented His Truth from penetrating the lies I was harboring in my heart. Without walls, I returned to His calling of me, this time without the self-imposed structure with which I began. And when I returned, the next space for revelation was waiting for me…because when I left, I left demonstrating my expectancy of His faithfulness because I wrote the number for the next revelation.
Chewing on all of this, I can hear His whisper. Amanda, you wrote and still write the next number. You know I would provide. You know my heart. You know how I love you. Your faith - your typing of those numbers - evidences that. I have accounted for all things, even those that are not part of my intended will. I love you too much to allow those things to change any of the plans I have for you. Continue with me. Seek me and I will show you. Rest in my presence.
He is right. I did write the next number in anticipation of more goodness. What was birthed from a trait I have as a result of my trauma (see Ten) was used as a reminder that I know where my help comes from: My Abba.