Tonight I was tidying up and found my Jonas Brothers notebook, but couldn't remember for the life of me what was in it. If anyone has followed anything that's happened to me in the last two years...well, it's a mish mash of that. It starts with some pages from a class...Evangelism and Discipleship! Then a sermon I don't even remember preaching, some ripped out pages that are probably gone with good reason, and a packing list for my roadtrip last June. The following 10 pages were notes from the road, hurriedly scratched out while trying not to turn into pavement smear. Those were nothing but a joy to reread and remember the magnificent heart transformation that God accomplished in those three days. Fast forward to some curriculum planning in Toronto and other unfortunate-and-I'd-rather-not-remember entries. A weird dream, a planned roadtrip for myself, Tyler and Mark to go on (the best destination being Kentucky for some straight-from-the-motherland KFC), and then the truly painful stuff. It's not enough to read page upon page that I can't remember writing, but to get to the clearest memories of all...that hurts. A plea to God to forgive me. A "pact" with the disciplinarians of life. A psalm. And then, in the midst of some of the hardest of the hard, this:
God, how to explain? I am a mess. Again. I am empty. I feel desert-ed. I thought I was out of here, Lord. I thought I was in the clear, running with Your hand in mine. Was I wrong?
I stand here, Your living water the only thing keeping my heart beating. I am not thirsty; You promised I never would again and I am far from parched. I am satisfied in You.
How do I complain to the Lord of creation? Exactly, I don't. You are sovereign, my life alone is a gift, and I worship You in desert or field or storm or mountaintop. I worship You for staying the same, for Your righteous consistency.
How do I look into Your eyes, King of Kings, and ask why You have led me here? Your ways are higher than my ways, Your thoughts above my thoughts. Ultimately all creation and situations are for Your glory. How do I accuse Your perfect love of forsaking me in this place? You did not leave me when I looked aside, turned aside, turned my back, walked away, ran away. You were here! Hand in mine, even when the mittens were so thick I couldn't feel it, let alone anything else. Looking directly in my tear-filled eyes when I failed You most profoundly; You still had lover's eyes for me. You still saw Your little girl. I look back over every stumbling step I have taken over the years, which at the time I mistook for trips and falls, and I can now trace with clarity the complex dance You led me in. I was safe in Your arms through every twirl, lift and dip.
Who am I that You are mindful of me?
I praise You!
I praise You.
- September 27/2010
No comments:
Post a Comment