From the grey of ash.

Photo Cred: Unsplash.

Photo Cred: Unsplash.

Do not eyeball your future marriage, the God-fearing man you will build beside, convinced that those bricks or that guy are your security. They aren’t. 
Lean into marriage with that driving hope, that desperate hunger, something I didn’t design to carry it, and you’ll trip.

Do not maneuver and jockey for salary, for money. It’s age-old quicksand, the ultimate security bait and switch. It will never deliver what you’re really after.
Lean into money with that driving hope, that desperate hunger, something I didn’t design to carry it, and you’ll trip.

Do not package up your talents and nearly unhinge the back door in a sprint down the road. You’ll exhaust yourself as they get heavier and heavier without me to carry them. 
Lean into talent with that driving hope, that desperate hunger, something I didn’t design to carry it, and you’ll trip.

I am your security, in whole and in its entirety.
That security, your salvation, does not belong to another; it will not be lent out.
I am who I say I am, your Father who will wash you in the most gentle of waters, bathing you in perfect peace.

So lean into me with that driving hope, that desperate hunger, for I am the only one designed to carry it, and you will know freedom. 

My daughter, 
you will run with chains left rattling behind you, 
from the grey of ash into the arms of life.