Ce n'est pas facile

There's this part in Micah, chapter four + right at the beginning, that honestly struck me so hard this morning I was breathless. It says:

1But in the last days it shall come to pass, that the mountain of the house of the Lord shall be established in the top of the mountains, and it shall be exalted above the hills; and people shall flow unto it.

And maybe it's figurative language, or maybe it's just prophecy, but that picture it puts in my head is something else. A mountain on top of the mountains. There are hills outside my window. They're blue because it's still morning, and they are so tall. So looming. So overshadowing. When I look out at those hills and imagine God's mountain of a house on top of the mountains, I just have to stop. I have a good imagination, but not that good.
Can you see it?
Because after I stopped + my breath caught in my throat and tickled the back of it there, I did. I saw it. In my own way.
And it was like nothing I ever could have come up with.

...

These days God has been so gracious to me. They are full of a new + blossoming friendship, peach colored carnations, plums, and tea every morning. But they are also full of change + decisions.
I am changing. I am realizing that a little more each day. I have always had a very judgmental spirit inside of me; I'm not too big of a person to admit that. In fact, when it comes down to it, I'm quite a little person. And so I have judged, and I judge, and I will judge. Sometimes that is alright, but I think I do it in a harsher manner than most. I have such very high expectations, of myself + everyone else on the planet, that sometimes I forget grace and compassion and mercy and love.

When I left my old church, it took me two years to change who I was. To strip off the old self + die, and to become the new one. The new me. The ever-changing, incessantly growing me. And with her came new ideals and revelations and expectations.
I see now that I've let bitterness take root in my bones and grow as one with the marrow. I've let it bloom in the sinews of my muscles. The worst part is though, I think I planted it there myself.
I have had this never-ending nagging in the back of my head for more than six months over something my Pastor said, and I can't shake it. I really can't brush it off my shoulders. And it is so very heavy. It is one of the heaviest weights I've ever carried.
It was only one sentence, one thing he said.

I promise that I am trying really, very hard to live like I agree with him. Because he was right. What he said was right.

I want to be able to look at people and say, I know this can work. I know you can do it right. I know you can make it happen. But I can't yet. And it's because of that bitterness. It's because I haven't seen it done right. It's because I have battle scars that I still try to hide.
There are so many wrong ways to worship God. 
There are so many right ways too though.
I don't have it all figured out. I don't know everything. I just know what the Bible says and what God has shown me. So I just want you to know, I am trying very hard not to judge you. But I am weighing the consequences of the choices you + I make as well, and if I ever feel that what you do will injure your's or my relationship with the carpenter, with the sweet Savior, then I will tell you so.
I promise you that.

He will not fail thee, nor forsake thee.

That phrase from Deuteronomy is on the palm of my hand this morning. I love it most right now. Because I am so uncompassionate + confused at times, and it is only because He stays with me that I can continue on.

...

No one ever said Christianity was easy.
And if they did, they're lying.