No Lame Apology This Time...

I am going to spare you another apology for my weak blogging efforts as of late. To be honest, I just plain haven't felt like doing it. I haven't felt like doing a lot of things lately. I have just felt kind of "blah". I can try to attribute it to lots of different things (and they may all factor in slightly): the decreasing daylight; the cold and damp weather; getting into the rut of the routine...all valid points. However, the truth of the matter is that I've taken my eyes off of the Lord and wallowed in the darkness of discouragement and just the general "funk". However, our gracious and faithful Father has shown His mercy once again and opened my eyes and shined His light on my heart. He just continues to speak to me that what He's looking for is ME. Simply ME. All of ME, but just ME. He is calling me to walk with Him, love Him, and know Him. And I so often want to run ahead or off in another direction and miss Him completely. I am so grateful for His mercy and the amazing ways He pursued me to bring the state of my heart to my attention.
In light of this, I came across this poem (actually it's a monologue) on YouTube the other day. We were going to be reading about the Samaritan Woman (in John 4) with Nina and Ala this past Tuesday, so I thought I'd check out YouTube to see if there was anything that went along with it. This monologue came up (which you can check out here) and it's amazing. I love the story of the Samaritan Woman because it paints such a beautiful picture of what I love about Jesus. This poem says it way better than I could, so I'll just leave you with it. It's a little long, but well worth the read, especially after you check out the real story in the fourth chapter of the book of John.

Woman at the Well
I am a woman of no distinction, of little importance.
I am a woman of no reputation save that which is bad.
You whisper as I pass by and cast judgmental glances, though you don’t really take the time to look at me.
Or even get to know me.
For to be known is to be loved and to be loved is to be known.
And otherwise what’s the point of doing either one of them in the first place.
I want to be known, I want someone to look at my face and not just see two eyes, a nose, a mouth and two ears, but to see all that I am and could be; all my hopes, loves, and fears. That’s too much to hope for, to wish for, or pray for so I don’t, not anymore.
Now I keep to myself and by that I mean the pain that keeps me in my own private jail, the pain that has brought me here at midday, to this well.
To ask for a drink is no big request, but to ask it of me, a woman unclean, ashamed, used and abused, an outcast a failure, a disappointment, a sinner.
No drink passing from these hands to your lips could ever be refreshing, only condemning, as I’m sure you condemn me now, but you don’t.
You’re a man of no distinction, though of the utmost importance, a man with little reputation, at least so far.
You whisper and tell me to my face what all those glances have been about and you take the time to really look at me.
But don’t need to get to know me.
For to be known is to be loved and to be loved is to be known
And you know me, you actually know me.
All of me and everything about me.
Every thought inside and hair on top of my head.
Every hurt stored up, every hope, every dread.
My past and my future, all I am and could be, you tell me everything.
You tell me about me.
And that which is spoken by another would bring hate and condemnation, coming from you brings love, grace, mercy, hope and salvation.
I’ve heard of one to come who would save a wretch like me, and here in my presence, you say I am he.
To be known is to be loved and to be loved is to be known.
And I just met you but I love you.
I don’t know you, but I want to get to.
Let me run back to town, this is way too much for just me.
There are others; brothers, sister, lovers, haters, the good and the bad, sinner and saints who should hear what you’ve told me who should see what you’ve shown me, who should taste what you gave me who should feel how you forgave me.
For to be known is to be loved and to be loved is to be known.
And they all need this too, we all do, need it for our own.