Oh my talking bird, I'll love you all your days.

Somehow I don't think that this--this way that I am living--is what trust in God is supposed to look like.

I'm afraid of losing the people I love. I'm afraid of being broken again. I'm afraid of becoming complacent. I'm angry at myself for my lack of trust. I'm discouraged by this constant. struggle. This. constant. tension. Yes, yes, I know: it's just human nature. My inability to trust God and other people is in-born. Trust and selflessness and love only come through grace. I know all that, but there's a little bitter part of my heart that's telling God that He isn't working fast enough on my stubbornness, on my pride, on my doubt.

Tonight I walked out of Unite, completely out of character, and went to sit in the westernmost stairwell to read some Psalms (46, 55, 61, 62, 86, 130, 131) and think: God, I am not my own.

I am not my own. I'm Christ's. Yours, all Yours. I'm Yours. I'm all Yours. I don't belong to my past or my present or my future. I don't belong to my friends or my family or my future family. I am not owned by my emotions, doubts, fears, worries, concerns. I am not owned by my frustration with my own sin and humanity.

I am not my own.

And I want my heart to know that. I want my feet to know it when I walk and my lungs to know it when I run. I want my hand to know it when it's holding someone else's. I want my soul to know that I am not my own. I want the world to know it too.

All Yours.