A Gentleman

There is such a notion that is referred to as gentle guidance. I think about it in the modern-day term, paralleled to gentle parenting. The loving nature of a child being reared in a way that is direct yet stern. Forgiving yet corrective. Assertive yet meek. Overbearingly hovering yet humble. Pushing someone without a firm-handed thrust but guiding them gently enough to remind them in times of productive struggle that You’re there. It’s guidance so loving that one forgets the stumbles because there is a quick shift and readjustment before any fall may occur. That, Beloveds, is the hand of The Father.

Over the last few weeks, I have heard, over and over in spirit, “Make room. Make space. Be prepared for the shift.” I have since laughed with a close friend and my sisters after telling them that I devoted an entire day to cleaning out my closet. I rapidly hustled through clothing and shoes. I tossed items to and fro. Making space. Making room. I went through shoes- a heel here, a sneaker there. Scarves, jackets, hoodies. Old jewelry and even some of my favorite t-shirts that should have found their way in departure long ago- tossed. Making space. Making room. As I moved things about, it seemed as though this was not what was intended for the word I received. It was the start, but my physical closest was not all that needed to be purged.

And so, I went on to the product graveyards underneath my sinks. Making space. Making room. If you know me well enough, you know that hair products are always in heavy rotation. I am all over the latest fad find that accentuates and loves on these curls and coils, and then it’s on to the next. I think my daughter, Addison, has helped me to double the habit because what’s better than one curly girl in a household, you ask? It’s two. I cleared 3 bathrooms, and still I felt like there was more to the download that I received. Making space. Making room. I sat and sat with what the meaning behind the message may be. I prayed and sat. Sat and prayed. Grew frustrated and unloaded every question I had on The One who could answer and still, nothing.

I was quickly reminded, however, that there is something about the posture in which we wait until we receive more instruction from The Guide. After that reimagined realization, I waited but I felt a hand of guidance at my back. Something so gentle yet something so divine. It felt like I was being coached through a tough session, yet it felt easier and more real in time and space. It felt practical and personal. It was the kindness of a Gentleman. And just as a gentle parent would, the push reminded me of the forward press.

A week or so after making space and making room in my physical home, I learned that the words spoken were meant to extend externally. To the life outside of my home. To the life outside of my heart even. The words were for me, but they’re also for you. I was not only being trusted with making room and space in places that can be touched in the physical, but the guidance, in this season, is more for the spiritual preparation. In speaking with a well-respected and revered colleague and friend, he shared this; “Majoria, it is the season for God’s manifested glory to fall on His children.” He continued on to add that the favor received now is in conjunction with the wait, long waits, that are no more. Waits that can only be resolved when the space is clear for receiving.

And to be guided farther, I received this word during morning mediation a few days after the encounter with my colleague; “The doors of provisional flood have been opened. To continue to operate in divine power and purpose, you must practice discipline with everything that is entrusted to you...”

When there is a word, there is a purpose. Where there is purpose, there is a plan. And once the plan, designed and orchestrated by God, is in place, there will be provision and a gentle push just at the small of our backs.

How we wait matters.

What we clear out matters.

Whom we align with matters.

Where we trod matters.

How we respond to the gentle push matters.

And as Grandma always reminded me, He is such a gentleman. Make space. Make room.