Perhaps it's a problem for humanity in general; perhaps it's just my culture, but we seem to struggle constantly with time. More often than not we battle time: it seems there's rarely enough. I know it's something I personally have difficulties juggling.
Have you ever stopped to think how odd that is?
I began thinking about it a week or two ago, and how perplexing it is that we should struggle so against basically the medium of our existence.
After all, we are born into time and thus come into the world with no prior experience; no knowledge of anything different. And we grow up and live every day in the context of time, and eventually die in the context of time. Odd that it should be so difficult.
Of course we know a technical meaning of time. The planet spins and we have day and night. It beats tireless circles round the sun and we have years. But somehow I think time is more than just these natural movements, as though they are only markers for the passage of time, like the reading on a thermometer does not cause the temperature but merely proves it. In the same way the cycles of day and night, fall and spring, winter and summer give meaning as markers.
And the cycles go on. In Chicago, each winter we become re-acquainted with cold, and snow falls to grace a dead world. Each summer the sun beats down, sometimes more gentle than others, and humidity rises and rain falls. Each autumn turns summer's greens to brown, red and gold. And of course every spring awakens the earth and brings forth life again—from one decade and generation to the next.
And still we fight the passing of time.
There's a verse in Ecclesiastes which says God "has set eternity in the hearts of men," and I've always considered it to mean solely our longing for something more; that humanity knows something is wrong and yearns for more. C.S. Lewis writes in Mere Christianity of our longing for another world as proof that such exists, his argument being that each human desire has a fulfilment. Could it be that God literally set a sense of eternity in our hearts so time feels unnatural?
Maybe my imagination is just incapable, but I have a hard time imagining a world without any sort of time. Perhaps time will still exist, but become mostly irrelevant relative to eternity. Again, eternity is too large for my wee brain of earth to comprehend, but I have a few ideas of the implications.
But, not to inhibit your imagination, I'll let you consider the concept for yourself. ;)
Mariposa Lily
August 4, 2010
July 17, 2010
Active Solitude
The other night I discovered that solitude can be just as friendly shared with a dog, depending, of course, on one's mood and the type of solitude sought. Mine was a slightly adventurous solitude; thus my canine's company was welcome.
At any rate, I went for a long walk Wednesday night in the forest preserve looking for quiet. And it was perfect, due, I think, to several reasons:
1) I came with hardly any expectations. I knew my soul needed quieting and I was hungry for beauty. But instead of looking for it, I just kept my eyes open.
2) I left technology and other distractions at home, including my phone, camera and notebook. I debated for a bit about the notebook, but was glad I didn't bring it. Sometimes there is powerful, inexplicable beauty in the small things, and sometimes, to carry a camera or notebook would cheapen it, somehow. Plus, in looking at it afterward, it never has the same effect and can even look silly or inconsequential.
The sky, at any given moment, was about twelve shades of blue (though I didn't count). Periodically I saw other people were biking or running on the path, but they were few and decreased over time.
Birds and crickets were making music, and the wind moved the long grasses and flowers gently while monarch butterflies danced above brightly. The grasses were rich hues of light and dark green, and the flowers added white, yellow, gold and pink.
None of this sounds terribly exciting, I know, but each tiny part struck me with its beauty almost as deeply as if I had never seen any of it before.
I realized at one point that the moments I was enjoying would never be replicated. The sky would never be these exact colors with the clouds in exactly these shapes and formations with the grass blowing exactly as it did and those birds flying just so across the sinking arc of the sun and the smell of green life and flowers' fragrance drifting through the air. There will be other, similar nights. But it will never be exactly the same again. I don't mind, of course, because that's how life works, but I never think about it in those terms. Then I realized I was the only person there to witness this transient artwork in all its glory, and I felt a bit honored to witness and enjoy it.
I smelled the perfume of a Queen Anne's lace, a brown-eyed Susan, and a white flower whose identity I don't know. Out of a field of hundreds upon thousands of practically identical flowers, I might be the only person to accept their humble invitation and sniff the fragrance of those particular flowers. And maybe it sounds funny, but I was glad I did, even if my dreadfully prosaic sinuses did complain the next morning.
Finally, I wandered off the path and lay on my back in a little clearing. I let my eyes rest for a while on the curved branches of some bare tree against the sky, admiring the architecture. I watched a hawk swoop into the shelter of an evergreen, and watched the long grasses and wildflowers sway in the wind. And I thought about how God had made each part: how He'd designed the elaborate curvature of that dead tree, and engineered those wildflowers with xylem and phloem as their lifeblood flowing up and down, and different cells for the different parts and chlorophyll to turn sunlight to food and keep them green while keeping our lungs rightly inflated. Then He made them supple, to spring back against the wind's laughter as well as its fury, and hardy to spring back anew each year.
It's been several years since I've taken a science course of any sort, and I normally pass by and regard the long grass simply as grass, and the wildflowers simply as such, though I admire their beauty from time to time. But even these green plants are remarkably complex. And they are only plants!
I felt a little like the disciples in Matthew six. God made the wild grass this elaborate, I thought. Why do I worry about my life and His plans for me?
I tried to think about God literally designing the earth and all that comes with it, but my mind is insufficient and what little I could fathom filled me with awe. Why do I have such trouble trusting God?
On the walk home, I saw the beginning of the sunset. The neighborhood was drawing nearer on my left, with the sunset before me, slightly to the right. Suddenly I noticed on a certain house every window was orange. That seemed odd--really, matching orange curtains throughout the entire house? Then I realized it was just a reflection of the sunset, but that seemed odd, too, for when I turned toward the sky, the sun was a smallish, orange disc. It didn't seem nearly big enough, when I saw mostly blue sky and only the little sun and inklings of approaching sunset, but brilliant orange was all the windows reflected. Then when I was about parallel with the house, the reflection was gone and I saw white curtains upstairs and someone watching television in the living room.
I went for a walk in need of quiet. Not only was my soul quieted, but I was filled with wonder and delight. Solitude needs to happen in my life more often, I think. And God is good :).
¡Gloria a Dios!
At any rate, I went for a long walk Wednesday night in the forest preserve looking for quiet. And it was perfect, due, I think, to several reasons:
1) I came with hardly any expectations. I knew my soul needed quieting and I was hungry for beauty. But instead of looking for it, I just kept my eyes open.
2) I left technology and other distractions at home, including my phone, camera and notebook. I debated for a bit about the notebook, but was glad I didn't bring it. Sometimes there is powerful, inexplicable beauty in the small things, and sometimes, to carry a camera or notebook would cheapen it, somehow. Plus, in looking at it afterward, it never has the same effect and can even look silly or inconsequential.
The sky, at any given moment, was about twelve shades of blue (though I didn't count). Periodically I saw other people were biking or running on the path, but they were few and decreased over time.
Birds and crickets were making music, and the wind moved the long grasses and flowers gently while monarch butterflies danced above brightly. The grasses were rich hues of light and dark green, and the flowers added white, yellow, gold and pink.
None of this sounds terribly exciting, I know, but each tiny part struck me with its beauty almost as deeply as if I had never seen any of it before.
I realized at one point that the moments I was enjoying would never be replicated. The sky would never be these exact colors with the clouds in exactly these shapes and formations with the grass blowing exactly as it did and those birds flying just so across the sinking arc of the sun and the smell of green life and flowers' fragrance drifting through the air. There will be other, similar nights. But it will never be exactly the same again. I don't mind, of course, because that's how life works, but I never think about it in those terms. Then I realized I was the only person there to witness this transient artwork in all its glory, and I felt a bit honored to witness and enjoy it.
I smelled the perfume of a Queen Anne's lace, a brown-eyed Susan, and a white flower whose identity I don't know. Out of a field of hundreds upon thousands of practically identical flowers, I might be the only person to accept their humble invitation and sniff the fragrance of those particular flowers. And maybe it sounds funny, but I was glad I did, even if my dreadfully prosaic sinuses did complain the next morning.
Finally, I wandered off the path and lay on my back in a little clearing. I let my eyes rest for a while on the curved branches of some bare tree against the sky, admiring the architecture. I watched a hawk swoop into the shelter of an evergreen, and watched the long grasses and wildflowers sway in the wind. And I thought about how God had made each part: how He'd designed the elaborate curvature of that dead tree, and engineered those wildflowers with xylem and phloem as their lifeblood flowing up and down, and different cells for the different parts and chlorophyll to turn sunlight to food and keep them green while keeping our lungs rightly inflated. Then He made them supple, to spring back against the wind's laughter as well as its fury, and hardy to spring back anew each year.
It's been several years since I've taken a science course of any sort, and I normally pass by and regard the long grass simply as grass, and the wildflowers simply as such, though I admire their beauty from time to time. But even these green plants are remarkably complex. And they are only plants!
I felt a little like the disciples in Matthew six. God made the wild grass this elaborate, I thought. Why do I worry about my life and His plans for me?
I tried to think about God literally designing the earth and all that comes with it, but my mind is insufficient and what little I could fathom filled me with awe. Why do I have such trouble trusting God?
On the walk home, I saw the beginning of the sunset. The neighborhood was drawing nearer on my left, with the sunset before me, slightly to the right. Suddenly I noticed on a certain house every window was orange. That seemed odd--really, matching orange curtains throughout the entire house? Then I realized it was just a reflection of the sunset, but that seemed odd, too, for when I turned toward the sky, the sun was a smallish, orange disc. It didn't seem nearly big enough, when I saw mostly blue sky and only the little sun and inklings of approaching sunset, but brilliant orange was all the windows reflected. Then when I was about parallel with the house, the reflection was gone and I saw white curtains upstairs and someone watching television in the living room.
I went for a walk in need of quiet. Not only was my soul quieted, but I was filled with wonder and delight. Solitude needs to happen in my life more often, I think. And God is good :).
¡Gloria a Dios!
July 8, 2010
The Sanctuary
I enter our quiet sanctuary:
a refuge, a place of love.
But I huddle in the corner near the door,
too aware of my inner imperfections, impurities,
hidden blemishes.
We are the only two in the room, He and I.
I long to run, hide in His arms,
listen to Him, and simply be.
But He is so holy and good,
and I know He loves me
but I am flawed
"Cleanse me," I whisper,
for I know He grants me mercy and grace,
but I cannot feel it--should I?
My eyes hold tears of shame,
but He comes close
and takes my hand to help me up.
"Come," He says. "I am making you a new heart.
I am turning the stone to flesh. It hurts sometimes,
but in the end you shall be glad."
And I hold tightly to His hands
and let the salty tears roll down.
"I want to trust You, to live for You, and do right.
"But it's so hard sometimes,
and I become busy and confused.
I'm like two people sometimes;
"Sometimes I want You and the things of the world.
I can't do it right."
He brings me nearer.
"I know it's hard.
But I am with you, and I am making all things right.
"I am making your heart of stone
into a human heart,
one that is pure, whole and holy.
"I am making you fully beautiful,
and you are starting, even now,
to bring glory to my name.
"For I love you, and I am
great above all. I am working
even when you cannot see.
"One day, all will be complete,
and your heart will be clean, alive
and truly real,
"And of the stone and dirt there will be no trace.
I promise."
The sanctuary is quiet,
but I am with Him.
And while I am filled with wonder,
and my shame is yet close by,
Still I yearn for Him,
and His love is stronger.
a refuge, a place of love.
But I huddle in the corner near the door,
too aware of my inner imperfections, impurities,
hidden blemishes.
We are the only two in the room, He and I.
I long to run, hide in His arms,
listen to Him, and simply be.
But He is so holy and good,
and I know He loves me
but I am flawed
"Cleanse me," I whisper,
for I know He grants me mercy and grace,
but I cannot feel it--should I?
My eyes hold tears of shame,
but He comes close
and takes my hand to help me up.
"Come," He says. "I am making you a new heart.
I am turning the stone to flesh. It hurts sometimes,
but in the end you shall be glad."
And I hold tightly to His hands
and let the salty tears roll down.
"I want to trust You, to live for You, and do right.
"But it's so hard sometimes,
and I become busy and confused.
I'm like two people sometimes;
"Sometimes I want You and the things of the world.
I can't do it right."
He brings me nearer.
"I know it's hard.
But I am with you, and I am making all things right.
"I am making your heart of stone
into a human heart,
one that is pure, whole and holy.
"I am making you fully beautiful,
and you are starting, even now,
to bring glory to my name.
"For I love you, and I am
great above all. I am working
even when you cannot see.
"One day, all will be complete,
and your heart will be clean, alive
and truly real,
"And of the stone and dirt there will be no trace.
I promise."
The sanctuary is quiet,
but I am with Him.
And while I am filled with wonder,
and my shame is yet close by,
Still I yearn for Him,
and His love is stronger.
July 5, 2010
When Death Still Stings
As Christians, we have the incredible joy to speak of death with hope. And while it hurts, we have a peace, too.
I am young, and blessed. Just about all the experiences with death I can remember have been related to believers, and believers who have been sick for such time that we rejoiced to see their pain ended and their joy and love complete as they are with God.
But what do you do when someone dies who wasn't a Christian?
I'm working day camps with the park district this summer, and this morning at work I was greeted with the terrible news that our camp director died last night.
He wasn't even twenty-three yet. He was talking about getting married and having kids with the girl he's dated for the past three years, had graduated, and wanted to teach special-needs kids. Of course, I could be mistaken--after all, who am I to judge another's heart?--but I don't think he knew Christ.
I feel so frustrated when life takes an illogical, ugly turn, clearly revealing the effects of sin's destruction once again; when it just doesn't make sense.
All this hasn't sunk in yet...it's not real. I ended up leaving work early because of the holiday (too few kids with parents off work), but tomorrow will be here soon, and somehow we'll have to tell the kids without traumatizing them. I suspect it will be a rough week, and feel more real starting tomorrow morning.
What do you even say, when a non-Christian dies?
How do you comfort someone who was close to them; show compassion without lying?
How do you react when the enemy wins a small victory? Though we know the battle's final outcome, don't the small losses still matter greatly if each life is precious and each human being made in the image of God?
I hate living in a marred, twisted, contaminated world.
What do we do when death wins a victory, and we still feel its sting?
I am young, and blessed. Just about all the experiences with death I can remember have been related to believers, and believers who have been sick for such time that we rejoiced to see their pain ended and their joy and love complete as they are with God.
But what do you do when someone dies who wasn't a Christian?
I'm working day camps with the park district this summer, and this morning at work I was greeted with the terrible news that our camp director died last night.
He wasn't even twenty-three yet. He was talking about getting married and having kids with the girl he's dated for the past three years, had graduated, and wanted to teach special-needs kids. Of course, I could be mistaken--after all, who am I to judge another's heart?--but I don't think he knew Christ.
I feel so frustrated when life takes an illogical, ugly turn, clearly revealing the effects of sin's destruction once again; when it just doesn't make sense.
All this hasn't sunk in yet...it's not real. I ended up leaving work early because of the holiday (too few kids with parents off work), but tomorrow will be here soon, and somehow we'll have to tell the kids without traumatizing them. I suspect it will be a rough week, and feel more real starting tomorrow morning.
What do you even say, when a non-Christian dies?
How do you comfort someone who was close to them; show compassion without lying?
How do you react when the enemy wins a small victory? Though we know the battle's final outcome, don't the small losses still matter greatly if each life is precious and each human being made in the image of God?
I hate living in a marred, twisted, contaminated world.
What do we do when death wins a victory, and we still feel its sting?
July 3, 2010
Being busy versus disobeying
Sometimes the truth becomes a good excuse, and instead of letting my life fill with good things, or rather important things, I need to change the facts, and stick to the best, most important things.
My life is busy, but I need to stop using that as an excuse for neglecting commitments and the Lord's gentle prompting.
I am supposed to be blogging more, and in the past month or so, there have been several topics I could have written about as I've been learning and thinking, even in the midst of all I'm doing. But I've been disobedient. I'm supposed to be writing more, too, toward the story I've been working with, on and off, for the past few years. And I've opened up that old binder more frequently the past few weeks, but as you can tell, my efforts toward blogging have been minimal at best.
Part of the problem, I suspect, is pride. Part of me doesn't want to write about something important that's on my mind until I've fully thought it through and decided my opinion at least vaguely, point of view, or the resulting course of action. But perhaps my unfinished musings will help you think, too. After all, it is better to mention an idea to provoke thought, even if I present more questions than answers, than never to write at all for the confusion in my little brain. And I always forget how it helps me to "think on paper." Somehow writing helps me process, and if I took the trouble of making time to blog, perhaps even introducing an idea or line of thought would help me round it out, consider or see it more fully. Instead I've been ignoring the quiet tug.
The other issue involves my need to prioritize and difficulty in doing so. This applies to my life in general right now. There are so many ways to fill my time already limited by work--and to risk sounding arrogant, I'm pretty sure I fill it with good things. Most of them I still need to keep in my life, but perhaps the quantities need to change. I've begun by cutting out an extra part-time job that was becoming stressful atop my steadier, more-hours-per-week job. That was a hard decision, with money a little tight anyway, but at this point I guess I'm supposed to learn to trust God and realize that rest is important, too. And by "rest" I mean a productive, active rest (though the extra job was interfering with sleep, too) which includes alone time, writing, reading, and wholesome time with family and friends. I guess the sum is I must pray more diligently for discernment in time.
I am feeling with particular force lately the peculiar inbetween or transition state I am in right now in terms of my life. I have a vague idea of what I want to do with my life, but not enough specifics to declare a major and start pursuing it directly quite yet. This, I might add, is frustrating, but I'm trying to be patient. There are issues that come to my attention and bother me, but I don't have the money, time, knowledge or resources to actually do anything about them, or so it seems. I'm trying to learn how to be critical without being cynical, and realistic without being pessimistic, but that's pretty much in God's hands as I have no idea how to find that balance.
I guess right now is my time to, as always, keep seeking God wholeheartedly, learn and think and gain knowledge and understanding, and live my life as best I can for God and in Him, inconsequential though my everday actions seem oftentimes.
Well, there are my musings, rambling and self-consumed as they seem. Here is my confession of disobedience to the call, inexplicable though it generally seems, to write, and my prayer for strength to listen next time and the time after that.
Praise Him for His infinite love and abounding grace, that while we must bear the consequences of our sin, He still picks us up when we fall!
To Him be all glory and honor and praise forever and ever!
My life is busy, but I need to stop using that as an excuse for neglecting commitments and the Lord's gentle prompting.
I am supposed to be blogging more, and in the past month or so, there have been several topics I could have written about as I've been learning and thinking, even in the midst of all I'm doing. But I've been disobedient. I'm supposed to be writing more, too, toward the story I've been working with, on and off, for the past few years. And I've opened up that old binder more frequently the past few weeks, but as you can tell, my efforts toward blogging have been minimal at best.
Part of the problem, I suspect, is pride. Part of me doesn't want to write about something important that's on my mind until I've fully thought it through and decided my opinion at least vaguely, point of view, or the resulting course of action. But perhaps my unfinished musings will help you think, too. After all, it is better to mention an idea to provoke thought, even if I present more questions than answers, than never to write at all for the confusion in my little brain. And I always forget how it helps me to "think on paper." Somehow writing helps me process, and if I took the trouble of making time to blog, perhaps even introducing an idea or line of thought would help me round it out, consider or see it more fully. Instead I've been ignoring the quiet tug.
The other issue involves my need to prioritize and difficulty in doing so. This applies to my life in general right now. There are so many ways to fill my time already limited by work--and to risk sounding arrogant, I'm pretty sure I fill it with good things. Most of them I still need to keep in my life, but perhaps the quantities need to change. I've begun by cutting out an extra part-time job that was becoming stressful atop my steadier, more-hours-per-week job. That was a hard decision, with money a little tight anyway, but at this point I guess I'm supposed to learn to trust God and realize that rest is important, too. And by "rest" I mean a productive, active rest (though the extra job was interfering with sleep, too) which includes alone time, writing, reading, and wholesome time with family and friends. I guess the sum is I must pray more diligently for discernment in time.
I am feeling with particular force lately the peculiar inbetween or transition state I am in right now in terms of my life. I have a vague idea of what I want to do with my life, but not enough specifics to declare a major and start pursuing it directly quite yet. This, I might add, is frustrating, but I'm trying to be patient. There are issues that come to my attention and bother me, but I don't have the money, time, knowledge or resources to actually do anything about them, or so it seems. I'm trying to learn how to be critical without being cynical, and realistic without being pessimistic, but that's pretty much in God's hands as I have no idea how to find that balance.
I guess right now is my time to, as always, keep seeking God wholeheartedly, learn and think and gain knowledge and understanding, and live my life as best I can for God and in Him, inconsequential though my everday actions seem oftentimes.
Well, there are my musings, rambling and self-consumed as they seem. Here is my confession of disobedience to the call, inexplicable though it generally seems, to write, and my prayer for strength to listen next time and the time after that.
Praise Him for His infinite love and abounding grace, that while we must bear the consequences of our sin, He still picks us up when we fall!
To Him be all glory and honor and praise forever and ever!
June 12, 2010
Monotone (Some Carl Sandburg)
This poem is an old favorite of mine. Enjoy! :)
Monotone
by Carl Sandburg
The monotone of the rain is beautiful,
And the sudden rise and slow relapse
Of the long multitudinous rain.
The sun on the hills is beautiful,
Or a captured sunset sea-flung,
Bannered with fire and gold.
A face I know is beautiful—
With fire and gold of sky and sea,
And the peace of long warm rain.
Monotone
by Carl Sandburg
The monotone of the rain is beautiful,
And the sudden rise and slow relapse
Of the long multitudinous rain.
The sun on the hills is beautiful,
Or a captured sunset sea-flung,
Bannered with fire and gold.
A face I know is beautiful—
With fire and gold of sky and sea,
And the peace of long warm rain.
June 6, 2010
Bits of Beauty
I love finding beauty and joy in small things. Sometimes there is more wonder in the unexpected bits of majesty, I think, than the great, though I'm not sure why.
Tuesday a couple of my friends and I went outside and drew on the sidewalk with chalk. And yes, it was delightful.
Next, one must always revel a bit in early summer grass. And while a picture is not the same as the experience, perhaps it will remind you to pay more attention next time.
The final picture I found while looking for a new desktop picture (I like variety and change it once per week on average). I would encourage you to look at it closely, even though you may not want to. How marvelously intricate!
I know this last one doesn't seem to fit with the others, but just look at this creature for a bit (props to a friend for the photo, btw). Notice his camoflage armor; the perfectly transparent wings.
What a splendid Creator!
May 30, 2010
waiting
I wrote this last August, but it resonates in my heart now, too.
Almost-silence of water,
wind-chimes,
wind touching trees,
joy-sounds of birds dancing,
crickets singing,
me waiting.
I am waiting, waiting for You,
for Your whisper,
more than a whisper,
to fill the silence,
the quiet, longing emptiness
in my heart.
I need You; You are all that I am,
all my strength and hope and love,
all my desire.
The silence is loud without You to fill it.
I need You.
I know You're here, somewhere,
but I can't hearYou--
I need more of You.
I want to be closer to You.
Your beauty is marvelous,
stirs my heart,
but I'm waiting
for Your
whisper.
May 25, 2010
Decidedly [still] an introvert
The last week and a half at home has been wonderful as I've had time to rest in many constructive ways. Overall, I must say I like having time to be an introvert again. It's difficult at school, for when my time often seems filled over the brim anyway, time to myself is hard to justify. But now I have had time to read, write a bit, clean, spend time with my family and a few friends, and just think. You have no idea how much I appreciate having time to think when everything has been so rushed this semester!
I just read That Hideous Strength by C.S. Lewis, the concluding book in his Space Trilogy. It was excellent, though I'll have to read it again in 2-5 years (and likely again later) because I think I'll get more out of it then. The trilogy as a whole is worth reading; I recommend it. I got the most, perhaps, out of Perelandra, but again, I think a lot of That Hideous Strength (as well as parts of the others, probably) went over my little head.
Still learning to listen and to seek God. Granted, this is something I hope I never cease to learn. But it is especially clear that it's of utmost importance right now.
It's been a week of order, rest, joy, and I think it's slowly filling me back up as I start working more and life starts gaining speed again. I've been in the outdoors a fair amount, and God has blessed me with beauty here and there unexpectedly, so pure and strong it hurts, somehow. And I've missed that. It feels almost healing.
God seems a bit distant at the moment and I am feeling my smallness and sinfulness again. Probably a good thing, though...I need to be reminded of my flaws and imperfections sometimes, such can be my pride. But I know He is good--infinitely good, abounding in love, and much closer than I know. He will reveal His presence when He sees fit, and He is working in me. Praise Him for His sovereign holiness and majesty!
To Him be all glory and power and praise for ever and ever!
Good night, friends.
I just read That Hideous Strength by C.S. Lewis, the concluding book in his Space Trilogy. It was excellent, though I'll have to read it again in 2-5 years (and likely again later) because I think I'll get more out of it then. The trilogy as a whole is worth reading; I recommend it. I got the most, perhaps, out of Perelandra, but again, I think a lot of That Hideous Strength (as well as parts of the others, probably) went over my little head.
Still learning to listen and to seek God. Granted, this is something I hope I never cease to learn. But it is especially clear that it's of utmost importance right now.
It's been a week of order, rest, joy, and I think it's slowly filling me back up as I start working more and life starts gaining speed again. I've been in the outdoors a fair amount, and God has blessed me with beauty here and there unexpectedly, so pure and strong it hurts, somehow. And I've missed that. It feels almost healing.
God seems a bit distant at the moment and I am feeling my smallness and sinfulness again. Probably a good thing, though...I need to be reminded of my flaws and imperfections sometimes, such can be my pride. But I know He is good--infinitely good, abounding in love, and much closer than I know. He will reveal His presence when He sees fit, and He is working in me. Praise Him for His sovereign holiness and majesty!
To Him be all glory and power and praise for ever and ever!
Good night, friends.
May 16, 2010
After Finals
It has been more than a month since I last posted anything, and I am still tired mind, body and spirit from the last few grueling weeks of school. Now I am home with a few weeks to breathe before work starts full-time.
I have a lot of thinking to do, and perhaps as I think I will write...I haven't really written in too long. But right now I think I just need to listen.
Some tidbits from my reading:
I have a lot of thinking to do, and perhaps as I think I will write...I haven't really written in too long. But right now I think I just need to listen.
Some tidbits from my reading:
"The crucible is for silver, and the furnace is for gold,
and the Lord tests hearts."
(Proverbs 17:3)
"Many are the plans in the mind of a man,
but it is the purpose of the Lord that will stand."
(Proverbs 19:21)
"Commit your way to the Lord;
trust in him, and he will act.
He will bring forth your righteousness as the light,
and your justice as the noonday.
Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him;
fret not yourself over the one who prospers in his way,
over the man who carries out evil devices!"
(Psalm 37:5-7)
"Therefore you have no excuse, O man, every one of you who judges. For in passing judgment on another you condemn yourself, because you, the judge, practice the very same things." (Romans 2:1)
"Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer."
(Romans 12:12; though I would encourage you to read that entire passage.)
Seek God. Truly search for Him. And join me in listening.
"Let all that you do be done in love."
(1 Corinthians 16:14)
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