glory, journal, nurse, prayer

Florence Nightingale

Dear Lord,

I praise you. I love you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
Use me Lord for Your kingdom.
Please draw me into Your heart–draw me into Your third heaven.
Draw me into Your eyes.
Your beautiful eyes.

Give me eyes to see
The hope in the hurting.
The found in the lost.
The good in the bad.

I want to preach.

Your Word has power to change.
Power to live.
Power to love.
Your Word.
Your Power impacted favor
Divine, changing power.
Bring this knowledge from my head
To my heart.
To give it to the world.

This was a prayer I wrote down in my journal the other morning. I don’t know why I don’t employ my pencil and paper every morning and why I don’t get up in the dark every day, but I don’t. But when I do, I am changed.

The paper and pencil are not magical, but they draw me into His presence somehow. This prayer was no different.

I sat down my pencil, closed my eyes, and waited to hear His voice. To feel His presence. And it came.

The weight of glory.

It was not a heavy weight- not one I couldn’t bear. Rather than burdensome, His weight felt warm. Secure. I wrote in my journal, “I have felt the weight of your presence. It was not heavy but comforting, pressing, relaxing, warm, but not too warm.”

My imagination saw me dressed in white.

Funny, I was not an angel but a nurse in an old fashioned uniform. White dress, stockings, hat, shoes. I asked the Lord if I could be a doctor instead. He replied, “No, I am the doctor. You follow me. Do what I say. We’re going into a war zone.”

I felt in my spirit Jesus tell me that I am to administer medicine. Give comfort. Encourage.

And I signed my journal entry –Florence Nightingale.

I’ve always said I could never be a nurse. God has such a funny sense of humor. Guess I’ll have to add this to my list of things I said I would “never” do. I’m just thankful it is in the spirit!

Much love,

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