Waiting for what?

You are standing now.

Comfortable, you think.

And if not?

Perhaps you could talk yourself into it.

Cognitive.

Far removed from your inward cry.

You are standing.

In high heels.

Flashy; but not fitting with your unpolished toes.

The blisters sink in.

This isn't right.

Then it comes...

Fear.

What are you afraid of?

"Taking them off." You reply to yourself.

And your heart beats just a bit faster.

"But why?" Your insecurities scream in rebuttle.

Why kick them off to the side of the road when there isn't another pair in sight?

"Because" it is spoken in a whisper.

Not mine, but His.

"Because maybe I want you to walk barefoot."

Naked.

Exposed.

Weak.

A mess.

But maybe that is okay?

No.

Maybe that is holy.

My feet were made to be undignified.

For His purposes.

For His path.

What if He is calling me to strip off the new, the bright, and what if He is calling me to walk in the dirt?

Bare.

There is nothing between the soles of my feet and His soul.

What if He has found me one to wash, not cover?

One to walk the holy with me?

One that is undone?

Very dark, but lovely.

What if He has fashioned one to wash my feet, not one to parade in?

What if my questions could always be answered in Jesus?

What if He is just longing for surrender?

What am I waiting for?

{heart}
Kel