why is it so hard to come to this place?
no matter that i've seen it and all the glory thereafter, the fully immersed body and soul... i still hesitate and procrastinate. even this writing is a possible avoidance tactic in this hour. 

He's asked me to come again. To drag myself busted and limping to His feet where I can only lay and live through the haunting sweet memory of what He did there, at the cross for me; the unforgiving, angry, stubborn prideful child, lip dripping "i will not". 

I've taken a stand again. I've set up the idol of self that sticks crooked and ridged. I've strong armed my own soul and God in trying to uphold myself. I've lied to myself at the shaking core and I'm just a breath away from toppling over. But I still stand, hard and sure. 
I believe the lie that there is good in the strength it takes me to hold this position. 
But really I am holding Him off, 
holding at bay my soul's longing to let go of me and forgive in Him. 
I'm exercising a muscle that assures I will not walk away from this free in His forgiveness and promises.

When I yelled and she grabbed and shook   and tore in   I was at my end with her, seven years ago. When I walked away and lay begging Him for help He presented the option... 
He promised that it would be worth it, going against everything I ever heard, saw, learned or practiced. He promised He would take over and take care, if only I could do it: let go of my service to self and take on all the blame, like He did. 
It only made sense because He put it there. I could only follow through with it because He works in our great weaknesses surrendered. 

And I walked in wearing years of casted claw marks and heart wounds, spiting words and twisting daggers. I named them each my own fault and asked for forgiveness. 
And I bled out. 
And in His name there came an end to the ongoing raging war. 
It was done. 
And I've never been capable of loving someone the way I've loved her since. 

It happened once more. The beckoning me to the cross, assuring relief after my own death. It presented and I accepted again. 
Same pain, same blood, same love resulting.
And another child of His -sister of mine- can do no wrong. 

Still I dance around this miracle again. As if stepping in and killing off my flesh disease might not be worth healing and freedom. I dance like a crazy chicken lady.        chicken. 
I feel the overflow of my heart banging up against the back of my tongue...
it's not fair! it's gone on for years! it's never going to change! it's toxic and doesn't deserve freedom to continue to streak wildly rearing it's head at me! why do i have to make the sacrifice? why me?!

But I meet Him here, every morning, knowing He will quiet the skin and forgive the sin. Knowing He will faithfully lead me to this forgiveness place, kicking and screaming as I do. 

I'm here under his wing, waiting for His lift off call. 
God help me.
Only You.