You win.

There are days when all my passionate topics and all the hills I’m ready to die on on get totally eclipsed by a glimpse of something bigger.  Days like December 5th.  Days like today.  When all that matters is that my God is on His throne and He is working all things for the good of those who love Him and all the foolish things that seem so important evaporate in the eternal.

Today I don’t care about scheduling or singleness. I don’t care about the fun I’m missing and I don’t care about the emails flooding my inbox. I don’t care about disputes and disagreements and I don’t care about insults or frustrations.

I am being restored

He restores my soul.

It might be one of the most famous passages of scripture:  

The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. (Psalm 23:1-3 ESV)

He restores my soul.

My soul feels…tattered.  It feels bent and broken, by sin, by suffering, by this world.

But He restores my soul.

Perseverance in disguise

I still remember the way the chair squealed slightly as she twisted toward me.  I remember the thinly veiled urgency in her voice as she looked at me with pleading eyes and asked me: ‘Where is He?!’

I remember the rasp of desperation in her tone and I remember feeling a moment of doubt.  It was one of the first times I realized that my churchey answers weren’t enough for the hurting and the broken.  My simple and shallow theology didn’t know what to do with a God who wasn’t showing up.Screen Shot 2014-05-25 at 7.51.57 PM

Waiting

He’s good at waiting.

He’s been doing it since before the foundation of the world when He dreamed this whole thing up.

Waiting for the fullness of time.  Waiting for the moment of redemption in a billion different stories.  He’s waiting now.

He’s waiting for me to turn back from the pigpen, waiting for my shadowy figure to appear on the horizon, waiting to fling up His robes and run toward me.  He’s waiting for me to turn off the TV and open the letter He left me to tell me to assure me that I’m not alone no matter what it looks like.

Fear

The fear is always there.  It lurks just below the surface prodding and pushing, demanding and dragging me places I don’t want to go.

I’m not afraid of death.

I’m afraid of life.

I’m afraid of waking up to a world I reject.  I’m afraid that the words ‘it won’t always be like this’ are hollow and void of any real power.  I’m afraid that the next bend in the road will lead me somewhere darker than death.  I’m afraid of being unknown, unwanted, rejected and alone.  I’m afraid that the next time someone asks me how I am doing I will tell them the truth and then I will have to watch their eyes widen and their face flush before I make a joke to relieve the awful pressure of reality pushing down on us both.