The Process

Trust the process,

Trust the process they say when you’re being molded into a masterpiece,

the scapel of the surgeon cutting the dead things out of me.

On the operation table I begin to feel like I can’t breathe,

He breathes new life into me.

Resuscitating the glory and things He’s placed in me.

Can these dry bones live again?

Can these scars and burn marks ever heal?

The weight of the battle feels heavy on me, I know I’ve been buried in previous seasons because in due season

the harvest will bloom.

“I am the master gardener and you are the vine. I have to prune you because a rose is never a rose until it has

experienced its thorns.”

Are you willing to pay the price?

But Papa why!? Why have thou forsaken me?

“This thing is crushing me! Do you hear me?”

“Daughter weather the storm.”

“The storm that pours down the rain wetting the dry lands and brings life to the forest on the mountain top.”

“Can you see the forest for the trees while in the valley?”

“While in the pit can you still look to thee and trust I work all things out for the good of those who love me?”

But Papa this hurts so much!

“Can you see the bigger picture of what I destined you to be.”

“A king and queen can never reign until they have learned their authority, strength, and how to lead.”

“Weather the storm.”

Papa it’s cloudy I cannot see.

“My child cling to me as you trust and obey because after every storm comes a rainbow.”

Trust the process.