Where’s my orange jumpsuit?

As another Monday at work begins, and me with only days left in the tower, I look back over my shoulder and see what a long way God has brought me.

On an early morning when the gloomies over a job that is just that — a job and not a calling — were holding my heart hostage last September,  I penned the words that follow.

The next morning while getting ready for work I had jokingly asked Dearest Husband, “Have you seen my orange jumpsuit? Is it in the wash?”

And as we both started laughing, he suggested that perhaps that should be the title of my post.

Hence, the more light hearted headline for a story written when my soul was deeply troubled.

While laughter is indeed good medicine, exercising our trust muscle is even better.

Trusting in the One who loves us like crazy and has the best intentions for our lives, as we follow hard not knowing the end from the beginning, makes Dad happy I am sure. And helps us get to where He wants us to go.

Where’s my orange jumpsuit?

Perhaps you, like me, have been in prison.

Yet there are no bars. No municipal authorities slamming shut the door.

The jailer is us…

Incarcerated by our very own self-imposed limitations.

Like that critical judge inside our heads. The one who tells us we can’t. We’re no good. We might fail.

And scolds us for dreaming…for dreams are only delusions anyway.

Though our tiny, fragile wisp of wonder dares to cling to hope…

We cannot see that the door to our cell is wide open.

Lingering in our dank, dark dwelling, we believe escape impossible.

Frittering away the days. Never accomplishing the purpose for which we are created.

And wrestling with demons in the night.

As we cry ourselves to sleep.

Mocked by dreams that won’t come true unless we wake up for real.

In the early morning gloom, we peer out our tiny window. All we see are raindrops on the pain. And a heavy gray sky that looks like we feel.

Soaking in more sadness.

To the very bone.

Breathing, but not living.

For real life is robust with colors and horizons that reach to forever. With Light and Love transcending the biggest obstacles.

Oh, our knees might get scraped when we stumble on the way, but at least we are running…

And breathing hard. Every inhalation flooding our cells with life giving potential.

And even smiling as each stride brings us closer to the ultimate finish line.

But, instead, we choose to remain in jail…

And we shake like a little leaf at the thought of someday breaking free.

Of casting off the shackles and taking our place in the Sonshine where our lives will blossom, coming to fruition and producing a crop of righteousness which can impact another prisoner.

Giving hope that there is more.

A better way has been made for those who will believe…

And we recall words heard long ago, before we chose our cell.

Those whom the son has set free are free indeed…

Taking those words to heart, not just to head, we decide we must run. Not sure where the road may lead, we choose courage and go.

Trusting…

He promises His plans for us are good…

He promises to supply all our needs according to His riches in Christ Jesus…

He promises to care for the sparrows…and are not we of more value to Him than they?

And He whispers still, small words that drown out the loudest, harshest prison warden.

If only we will choose to listen to Him instead of the lies.

And heed the call.

And run the race that has been prepared since before the foundations of the world were set.

Run and finish well…knowing at the end of the day we have done our very best, by God’s grace, to fulfill our destiny.

And when we finally move forward, fear will be left in our dust.

And we will hold high the torch of faith, passing it on to our cell mates…

~sheila

Reposted from the archives…Hoping these words encourage someone today.

Do you have an orange jumpsuit story to share? Are you toiling away your time or pursuing the purpose God created you for?  Please consider sharing your comments…

Please note: I reserve the right to delete comments that are offensive or off-topic.

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6 thoughts on “Where’s my orange jumpsuit?

  1. Thank you for sharing these thoughts, Sheila. Often, here at my corporate workplace, people will throw around the phrase “job security” as a means to describe the cog-like role they occupy inside this industrial people-machine.

    My frequent response is to remind them of how the phrase “maximum security” is most often used. It always elicits a pause and a smile.

    “The jailer is us… Incarcerated by our very own self-imposed limitations.”

    These be true words that I’ve been pondering for the past few years but without arriving at a viable alternative.

      • Thank you, too, Michael. I suspect I’m a bit too much like many of the OT characters… too afraid to act on what I think God may be speaking, and like some NT characters… those waves look too big & scary. Better to stay in the boat than even consider walking on water, as interesting as that might be to experience. :^)

        But I’ve read of people who were interviewed at nursing homes, who are in the sunset of life. When asked what they would change about their lives, if they were given the opportunity to go back and re-live them again, a significant number of them said that they would take more risks instead of living so conservatively.

        This has been a dominant thought for the past several years as well.

        • I’ve got plenty of singed flesh, my friend. Testimony to having learned my lessons through repetition.

          Have a post queued up for the morning that may be of interest to you…