We hear the words, so difficult to take in, and our eyes scan quickly over the page. Yes, there. The black type on this white paper background needs to dig deep into this hard heart. This, Father, Your love, let it be something I can more readily receive.
I thirst.
I thirst for you.
Mother Teresa shares the words that Jesus poured into her, words that I long to believe — and I do — but, Father, we both know I don’t live in that truth fully. We both know I struggle to receive this, push back from the posture of surrender, this heart of mine that forgets it longs for nothing but You.
She writes it down, these words You say,
‘I thirst for you. Open to me, come to me, thirst for me, give me your life — and I will prove to you how important you are to my heart.’
And You continue,
‘No matter how far you may wander, no matter how often you forget me, no matter how many crosses you may bear in this life, there is one thing I want you to remember always, one thing that will never change: I thirst for you — just as you are. You don’t need to change to believe in my love, for it will be your belief in my love that wil change you. You forget me, and yet I am seeking you every moment of the day — standing at the door of your heart, and knocking.’ (“I Thirst for You,” Bread and Wine).
And I hear this, in this group of women you bring together, and I vow to stop just trying to believe this more. With the support of this community, Your girls, I will end the dance of thinking You are something I must seek, chase after, capture and take as my own. Don’t I do that sometimes, Father, take what You give and try to shape it into something of my own?
Do you do this sometimes, too? Can you imagine that there is nothing you need to do, or change about yourself, to be loved like this? Father, give us faith to believe this more. Thank You for Your grace, Your thirst. Your thirst for us, Your girls.
Girls, shall we believe this, together? May I join in this, this amazing reality, with you?
Wow, I have never heard of this writing by Mother Teresa. I read your blog and immediately had to go find it on the Internet and download and print it to really meditate on this. It is God inspired no doubt.
It is hard for us to accept just how much God loves us – inspite of us – may our hearts be opened through His Spirit that we may understand and embrace that love.
Thank you so much for sharing this – it has been a great blessing today.
Be blessed.
http://beckfarfromhome.blogspot.com/ Beck Gambill
That truth rubs against the grain of my mind. I know God loves me but to speak in such vivid tones of deep longing overwhelms and almost embarrasses me. It's hard for me to look full in the face of that kind of love, which tells me I need to take the time to. Thank you for stretching me.
Winds of Happiness All new, all beautiful, all glorious, in worship of Him . . preparing for heights and love and . . . a wedding.
When Mother's Day is Hard "Today I reach out a hand to you my sisters, and for all women out there who find Mother’s Day to bring on a flood of emotions and feelings. It’s okay and it’s normal, and you are loved by an Almighty God no matter your circumstances."
Nail Polish, Bubbles, and $38 "I feel so helpless with my keyboard and blue nail polish and measly $38 sponsorship. But I also feel so happy that my $38 is made HUGE when it’s in the hands of Compassion International."
Pruning "If We Just" Statements "There is no ladder of motherhood success. There is no ultimate homemaker. No winner of the blogging world. No amazing wife of the year. And yet, we hold this if we just bar up high for ourselves and often cut ourselves short in what we did do."
Calling All Weary Women "Are you a weary mom or an anxious woman out there like me? One who sometimes hits overload and has to put a halt to people’s demands and requests? Have you hit a desperate place in your life, and you are carrying the weight of worry on your shoulders?"
Believing something so amazing
We hear the words, so difficult to take in, and our eyes scan quickly over the page. Yes, there. The black type on this white paper background needs to dig deep into this hard heart. This, Father, Your love, let it be something I can more readily receive.
I thirst.
I thirst for you.
Mother Teresa shares the words that Jesus poured into her, words that I long to believe — and I do — but, Father, we both know I don’t live in that truth fully. We both know I struggle to receive this, push back from the posture of surrender, this heart of mine that forgets it longs for nothing but You.
She writes it down, these words You say,
‘I thirst for you. Open to me, come to me, thirst for me, give me your life — and I will prove to you how important you are to my heart.’
And You continue,
‘No matter how far you may wander, no matter how often you forget me, no matter how many crosses you may bear in this life, there is one thing I want you to remember always, one thing that will never change: I thirst for you — just as you are. You don’t need to change to believe in my love, for it will be your belief in my love that wil change you. You forget me, and yet I am seeking you every moment of the day — standing at the door of your heart, and knocking.’ (“I Thirst for You,” Bread and Wine).
And I hear this, in this group of women you bring together, and I vow to stop just trying to believe this more. With the support of this community, Your girls, I will end the dance of thinking You are something I must seek, chase after, capture and take as my own. Don’t I do that sometimes, Father, take what You give and try to shape it into something of my own?
Do you do this sometimes, too? Can you imagine that there is nothing you need to do, or change about yourself, to be loved like this? Father, give us faith to believe this more. Thank You for Your grace, Your thirst. Your thirst for us, Your girls.
Girls, shall we believe this, together? May I join in this, this amazing reality, with you?