I step gingerly on the scale, earrings removed of course. Bracing the towel rack I let the numbers find their digital destination. My morning mood awaits the verdict. If the scale determines the third digit to be a 6 then a fitful of exercise is warranted and my mood is down-ish. If a 5 pops up, then moderate exercise will do. If the scale shows a 4 or better yet a 3, then exercise can wait. My morning will be purposeful and energetic.
So depending on the digit, I either sludge or bounce down the basement stairs where I have my morning “quiet time” (that’s Christian-ese for reading the Bible and praying). The scale has influence over that as well. A 3? Lord, I’m ready for the mission field. Africa? Just say the word. A 6? My prayers will compete with vows of controlled eating and visions of God scowling.
Believe it or not, I record each scale-speak in a journal and attach my own emoji — a 7 level emoji has just seen a Stephen King clown face. A 3 level emoji just had a massage and a margarita. You get the idea. This morning my scale-speak was a non committal 4. A bored emoji.
I turn on Moody Radio — perky but endearing Christian banter (wisely not a tad political – lest I zip over to NPR). They’re playing the song, Break Every Chain.
There is power in the name of Jesus — to break every chain, break every chain, break every chain.
The truth is I’m fond of my chains. I designed them. I tuck the key away in my purse. My scale-speak chain keeps company with a fear-chain and a worry-chain.
So what’s in YOUR purse?
These blog posts are going to be chain-exposing and sprinkled with God-speak. And I truly believe God does communicate. His voice runs the continuum from blaring (think burning bush) to whispering – annoyingly subtle, recognized only in the aftermath.
My desire right now (this is “4” speaking) — is to break every chain, break every chain, break every chain.
And ultimately to reside in the shelter of his wings. And in the shadow of his presence. No better place to be.
Treasured artwork by my Alex, circa 2000