“But as for me, it is good to be near God. I have made the Sovereign Lord my refuge; I will tell of all your deeds.” (Psalm 73:28)
It can be daunting to think of all of the unknowns life possesses. Realizing that the line between contentment and eagerness is faint, I often wonder which side of the line I am on. Perhaps I have a foot planted on either side. The thought struck me today that maybe the two aren’t mutually exclusive. Can I be content with where I am today, and still possess an eagerness for what I will do tomorrow? Is it possible for us to rest in quiet confidence that today we are near God, and that is the goal of our salvation… and yet operate in eager preparation for encounters with the lives we have yet to touch?
Perhaps contentment is not a state of being still, as it is often portrayed. What if it is a dynamic, yet peaceful way of functioning, of thinking, of preparing our hearts for what is ahead? My experiences have shown me that movement birthed out of contentment seems to bear fruit that is much stronger than movement birthed from restlessness.
What if, for right now, it really was good enough to be near God, to make God our refuge? The fruit of our lives may be that much more nurturing to hearts that need to be fed.
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
the dark
One of my least favorite memories is of the very first night I was left alone at home to babysit my little brother. I was petrified. I’m not even sure how old I was. All I knew was that it was getting dark outside and mom and dad were leaving… and every young child knows that the monsters come out when mom and dad aren’t around. It wasn’t until that lonely night that I realized the element of safety that my parents’ very presence could establish.
We lived in a 1900s remodeled Victorian style home, complete with its creaks and squeaks. The doorways were large, the ceilings were tall, and the stairway was endless. Oh yes, all the more room for the shadows of the night to haunt and the creaks to echo through my desperately ringing ears. Suddenly my home became my worst enemy—the source of my mental tantalization with its creaking and settling in the gusting night’s wind. It was me against my very own fear of the lonely night. In short, I was afraid of the dark.
I chuckle to myself now when I think about that night and all of the silly things I did in distressed attempts to overcome my fear. I laugh as I think about trying to comfort my little brother while I was shaking in my own boots. But as I reflected this morning on that fearful night so many years ago, something stopped me dead in my tracks. I am still afraid of the dark.
Yes. It is true. I still exhibit a panicked display of thoughts and behaviors when I come to a situation in which the light is dim. Although I say that I “rest in the shadow of the Almighty,” the creaks of the howling world seem to become louder and louder in their distraction, and my blood pressure rises when the fierce winds of uncertainty rattle the windows of my life.
There are a few things going on in my life right now in which I am distinctly seeking God’s direction. And yet, this seems to be one of those times where I am timidly walking the halls of my own faith… in the dark. There doesn’t seem to be any well-defined direction as to what to do or where to go next, and so I just keep walking. I could lie to you, but I won’t: I don’t like the dark. Darkness requires slow, careful movement. It demands patience. I’m not very good at any of those things!
As much as I don’t like the darkness, what I do love is the peace that comes with trusting God fully. When you’re in the dark, there’s not much else you can do. I suppose I could drive myself nuts with the endless questions of “How?” “Why?” and “What if?” But I’ve been down that road before… and I got so busy rattling off questions that God couldn’t get a word in edgewise! It’s amazing the peace that comes with learning to shut your mouth. Even in the dark.
We lived in a 1900s remodeled Victorian style home, complete with its creaks and squeaks. The doorways were large, the ceilings were tall, and the stairway was endless. Oh yes, all the more room for the shadows of the night to haunt and the creaks to echo through my desperately ringing ears. Suddenly my home became my worst enemy—the source of my mental tantalization with its creaking and settling in the gusting night’s wind. It was me against my very own fear of the lonely night. In short, I was afraid of the dark.
I chuckle to myself now when I think about that night and all of the silly things I did in distressed attempts to overcome my fear. I laugh as I think about trying to comfort my little brother while I was shaking in my own boots. But as I reflected this morning on that fearful night so many years ago, something stopped me dead in my tracks. I am still afraid of the dark.
Yes. It is true. I still exhibit a panicked display of thoughts and behaviors when I come to a situation in which the light is dim. Although I say that I “rest in the shadow of the Almighty,” the creaks of the howling world seem to become louder and louder in their distraction, and my blood pressure rises when the fierce winds of uncertainty rattle the windows of my life.
There are a few things going on in my life right now in which I am distinctly seeking God’s direction. And yet, this seems to be one of those times where I am timidly walking the halls of my own faith… in the dark. There doesn’t seem to be any well-defined direction as to what to do or where to go next, and so I just keep walking. I could lie to you, but I won’t: I don’t like the dark. Darkness requires slow, careful movement. It demands patience. I’m not very good at any of those things!
As much as I don’t like the darkness, what I do love is the peace that comes with trusting God fully. When you’re in the dark, there’s not much else you can do. I suppose I could drive myself nuts with the endless questions of “How?” “Why?” and “What if?” But I’ve been down that road before… and I got so busy rattling off questions that God couldn’t get a word in edgewise! It’s amazing the peace that comes with learning to shut your mouth. Even in the dark.
Saturday, August 05, 2006
trading in the lantern of logic
Have you ever noticed that much of the time God is not logical? Forgetting that God sees the entire canvas of our lives, it often happens that our finite minds supersede the vision of God’s heart for us. Being the definitively logical person that I am, sometimes He and I go around and around about this.
This morning while I was reading my bible and devotions, I read something that struck a cord with the things God has been doing in my life: “It cannot be stated definitely what the call of God is to, because His call is to be in comradeship with Himself for His own purposes, and the test is to believe that God knows what He is after.”
I am the queen of logic. I am dangerously analytical and I think things to death. I am the girl with the plan. I am the girl that was the heartbreaker in high-school—not so much in the boyfriend-hopping sense—but because most of the time when someone would ask me out, my response would be somewhere along the lines of, “Well, I know you’re not the type of guy I’d like to marry, so probably not.” Sure, I still acted like a squirrelly schoolgirl some of the time, but it was never long before my logic would crash the party of my adolescent emotion. Perhaps my logical intellect was also part of the reason I never got caught up in scenes of drugs and alcohol that were rampant in my small town. It just didn’t make sense to me.
The logic that spared the innocence of my “youth” sometimes feels like it could be the death of me today. Sure, my intellect could take me straight to the top if my goals were fame and recognition… But there is something different my heart is chasing after. Something deeper. This “something” is the heart of God, and it is attached to His purpose for my life. My intellect will never get me to the heart of God—it is a place I can enter only through the shadows of faith and obedience. My logic detests this.
For much of my life, logic has been my light in the darkness, my way of seeing the world in a manner that is a step removed from the hype of those around me. As God continues to speak to me about the next steps in my life, I have been asked to turn in my lantern of logic and reach instead for the right hand of God in the shadows of my uncertainty. The test truly is, as Oswald Chambers so beautifully reminded me this morning, “to believe that God knows what He is after.”
This morning while I was reading my bible and devotions, I read something that struck a cord with the things God has been doing in my life: “It cannot be stated definitely what the call of God is to, because His call is to be in comradeship with Himself for His own purposes, and the test is to believe that God knows what He is after.”
I am the queen of logic. I am dangerously analytical and I think things to death. I am the girl with the plan. I am the girl that was the heartbreaker in high-school—not so much in the boyfriend-hopping sense—but because most of the time when someone would ask me out, my response would be somewhere along the lines of, “Well, I know you’re not the type of guy I’d like to marry, so probably not.” Sure, I still acted like a squirrelly schoolgirl some of the time, but it was never long before my logic would crash the party of my adolescent emotion. Perhaps my logical intellect was also part of the reason I never got caught up in scenes of drugs and alcohol that were rampant in my small town. It just didn’t make sense to me.
The logic that spared the innocence of my “youth” sometimes feels like it could be the death of me today. Sure, my intellect could take me straight to the top if my goals were fame and recognition… But there is something different my heart is chasing after. Something deeper. This “something” is the heart of God, and it is attached to His purpose for my life. My intellect will never get me to the heart of God—it is a place I can enter only through the shadows of faith and obedience. My logic detests this.
For much of my life, logic has been my light in the darkness, my way of seeing the world in a manner that is a step removed from the hype of those around me. As God continues to speak to me about the next steps in my life, I have been asked to turn in my lantern of logic and reach instead for the right hand of God in the shadows of my uncertainty. The test truly is, as Oswald Chambers so beautifully reminded me this morning, “to believe that God knows what He is after.”
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