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There are days when you need to weep.

And then you need to dance.

Dance like David who rejoiced over the presence of the Lord. {2 Samuel 6}.

Because when you weep for the wrecking of your soul, to dance like David may be the balm to rebuild it.

Today is¬†another day where the¬†need for God’s voice spoken over me is desperate. The need to know His presence is great,¬†even though¬†I¬†know.

need to weep mourn dance

A few years back in¬†small group we were asked how we can know that we are saved. A very spunky lady stood out with her answer, as she often did. “I just know in my knower that I know, that I know. You know?”

I get it. When it comes to having a relationship with my Father in heaven, I know, that I know, that I know that it is true.

Even so, as much as my head ascends to the uncompromising, unceasing and unhindered grace and love available to me,¬†my knower gets stuck. I don’t live as if I believe.

My head knows one thing while my heart cries out just the opposite. Something is broken. Maybe my knower is a part of my soul? Maybe it resides in a part of my heart where the hurt crouches near?

I can think logically and rationally all day long about very important and wonderful theological concepts, but if it’s not buried in my heart, deep in my knower, it will not move me as I need to be moved. Transformation is limited. Posssibly, probably, blocked out completely.

Today, my head knows I am redeemed, loved, and empowered by the Spirit.  Deeply engrained in me are the truths that He who is in me is greater than he who is in the world. But something in my heart still shakes in fear, sadness, anxiety and more.

True, some of it is due to the after effects of extreme stress and years of dealing with certain issues. Some of it is physical and I’m seeking help.

Yet, there is also a spiritual element. I feel it. This much I do know; the enemy wants to take me down through any means possible.

Even more, my heart knows something that turns my eyes heavenward.¬†It’s a truth that clings tightly as the Spirit nudges me towards Him.

God will allow trials for my growth and His glory. And this is a good thing.

stumble dance

Some days though,¬†I just don’t like it. My knower feels broken. My soul feels robbed of joy. ¬†But joy is not lost. It’s just hidden.

Weeping allows me to accept the pain so that I may hand it over to the Father.

Then, released of carrying the burden any longer, I must dance.

At first it’s just in my heart. Sometimes it’s with my voice. Sometimes it’s knee slapping, hand raising, feet hopping, all-out dancing.

When His truths are soaked up through praise, scripture, study and song  there is a refilling of all which the enemy keeps trying to steal, the sense of peace from knowing that I know, that I know that I am His and He is mine.

And He is.

This I know.

 

 

 
with love, Jolene
This post is one of several written in the early years of healing post serving as foster parents. They include broken thinking, rambling thoughts, and a fight to survive as well as a desperate clinging to the hope only God can give. I pray God uses my story as an encouragement to those in the midst of the battle. You have God with you even now.

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