Not even this...

They can be moments; they can be seasons; they can seem like lifetimes. They are the seconds, the minutes, the hours, that we spend wishing away. They are most likely difficult, uncomfortable, or seem empty. They may be wished away because of what we convince ourselves is "hope" for better in the future... then things will be really good. In those places, we don't want now - we want then. Sometimes "then" is past, and other times it is future. Now becomes nothing more than the product of the past and the means to the future... and that future -if we let ourselves - we will spend wishing away too.

My lesson on this front came in the middle of the night shift. Now, if you are a shift worker, or a parent, or a myriad of other vocations that leave you unwillingly sleep deprived, you will understand what I mean by exhaustion. Your body begs you to sleep; your mind concurs; your everything is weak. And it was in the middle of a night shift, coming into anticipated days off, that I heard God speak to me about time. "Not even this..." He said... "not even this should you wish away." Don't wish for a faster passing of time to get to your bed. Don't wish even this long, dreary, and difficult time away.

That early morning He gave me the gift of being able to see the temporal things around me, that I need to cherish in that moment; place of life stuff. You can insert your own blessings here, but mine included: nieces young; family in good health; a body that is still good to me; good friends in close proximity; little heartache. So many blessings; so much to be thankful for. All things that will be lost eventually in the passing of time. All seasons that will pass away someday. All things that I need to treasure more. That is what now is for.

Love it more

I'm back in school these days... settling back into routine... sleeping regular hours again... getting ready for another bout into what, once again, feels like my "new" life (though it's already been 9 months). I started this post months ago, back in July, when my new life was much like my old life in some ways. Working back at my old job in dispatch for the summer was the same. Commuting was different. It was a time in my life when I was thinking a lot about the things I love to do; the things that remind me who I am... and thinking about how my life was too busy & I was too tired to be involved in them. That stage of life did not cater to hiking trips and leisurely summer days. The stage I'm in now does not contribute well to experiencing the world outside of this city. And though I have a few WONDERFUL friends here, my life isn't as socially connected with games nights, a group, a sense of social belonging as it once was... long long ago now it seems.

It was in the midst of the mourning and the wishing that I understood... whatever remains, I must love more. What are the remnants in this city life; this student's budget; this place in life... what that I love is still alive in this place? I can't replace anything; not the mountains, not the laughter in the games nights, not the vulnerability of our Bible study group, not the long summer nights on the dock with the silence and the stars, not the deep friendships nor opportunities He has afforded me in different places of the world. I am here now. And with every shred of my being I need to love it more... and love it now.

As I write this, I am so sure of the fact that I am known... God has not forgotten me. He knows what delights me; He remembers what makes my heart rejoice, even when I am unsure or have forgotten. Those things I will discover in this place, or whatever place He takes me to in the months and years ahead. This post is not to sound forlorn... but an encouragement that wherever we are there is more than enough: to delight your heart; to make your soul rejoice; to give you new eyes in the same circumstances. The Lord your God is with you wherever you go... or wherever you stay.

Hypothetically...

 Hypothetically speaking... has anyone ever had their armpit(s) froth after a run (or other sweaty activity)?  I am (hypothetically) suspecting that the shirt I was (hypothetically) wearing didn't have all the soap washed out of it.  Just wondering if, (hypothetically), this has ever happened to anyone else?  Frothy armpit(s) on a run, anyone?

Embarrassed

It was only a handful of coins... about $4 worth, I think.  You know, the ones at the bottom of your purse or your pocket that clink when you walk and you dig through every now and then for exact change.  Maybe organized people even save them and roll them once in a while, I don't know.

This morning in church they took the monthly benevolent offering.  Money specifically for those in our church who don't have enough for the basics.  When they made the announcement, my heart was prompted to give, but when I reached for my wallet it wasn't there... it was at home.  So I remembered the change pocket and thought about it, but when it came down to the swirl of activity of offering plates and awkwardness, the change I was holding in my hand didn't make it in.

Do you want to know why?  Bottom line: because I was embarrassed.  Embarrassed of a handful of change, of the sound it would make, of what it would look like to put coins in a plate filled with paper.  I justified it all the way home, "it's only a few dollars; God knows your heart and that you wanted to give; you'll give another time" kind of talk.  But you know, God prompted me to give today... and so that means with whatever was in my hand today.  

I wonder what He wanted to do with it... maybe buy me some faith?  I am hoping today will service to give me courage for next time - to look more outwardly than inwardly, and not be embarrassed about what I've been given to give.

Perseverance

Perseverance... is for when it is hard.

This is one of the lessons of my last few years of living.  I have learned it well, and not because I have succeeded, but because I have failed.  God took me on a journey, stripped me of things that founded my faith besides Him - ideologies, good ideas, areas of my life I thought God would never touch if He really loved me - those have been shaken.  And in the midst of it all I wondered if the plans God had for my life were really full of a future of hope.  I wondered if I was a pawn that only purposed to serve those He really loved.  I believed I was a concubine in the house of my Lord, and not His bride.  I believed I was somehow excluded from His blessings.  I wondered if He was good.  I doubted the promises of His Word when I looked through the glasses of my experience.  On so many levels I failed to hold fast to His promises, and to Him.  I did not persevere - yet in it all I knew He never let me go, though I came close to letting go of Him.

The book of Proverbs talks about the temptress.  She masks herself as wisdom but her goal is to destroy those who love God.  It says that all who were slain by her were strong.  She is presented as an adulteress, but I doubt that adultery is the only trick in the bag.  I don't know what line she is using to get you down the stairs into her house, but I know the one she used on me was far less complex that I would have suspected.  She had been drawing me in a long time before I got to the stairwell of her house... by the time I was at her door, I already believed the lies.  By grace, I am climbing up the stairs of that house, back into the streets, searching for the real voice of wisdom and not the mimic whose lies set us up to be destroyed.

Most of the time, I try to write these posts so that anyone can understand them.  I know that this one has more "Christianese" than what is normal.  But today it is directed towards those who once loved God, those who are wondering if He really loves them, those holding on by a thread, those who have already let go, and above all for those in the midst of a dark and faraway place, whose life with God is nothing of the promises they had expected right now.  Hold on dear soldiers of Jesus Christ... Perseverance is for when it's hard.  Perseverance is for when there is no tangible reason to believe.  Perseverance is an act of the will, and sometimes every other facet of your being is telling you to stop and give in.  If you feel forgotten, if God seems silent, if your dreams have just been shattered, if your spirit is broken - hold on to Him!  Yes, it is really hard... it may be the form of betrayal, or sadness, or hurt, or ridicule, loneliness or neglect, a big life changing impact or a slow grating of events that would be insignificant on their own - whatever the case, the events have been specifically crafted to make you fall... your set of circumstances may not be unbearable for someone else, but they touch you to the depths of your heart.  Take courage friend, and continue to stand.

If you have let go, doubted, disbelieved, or wallowed... there is redemption.  Even those ashes will arise beauty... His good will overcome the evil.  His plans for you are good.  He will not leave nor forsake you.  He is able to do abundantly more than we could ask or think.  He is who He says He is.

"... our course is never more in danger than when a human, no longer desiring, but still intending, to do our enemies will, looks round upon a universe from which every trace of him seems to have vanished, and asks why he has been forsaken, and still obeys."  Uncle Screwtape, from the Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis.  (The Screwtape letters is a fictional book of letters from Screwtape to his nephew, teaching him how to be a good demon and keep people away from the love of God.)

Porcupine

I saw him on the grass as I was biking home in the twilight... a porcupine.  He (she?) was on the grass right off of the trail.  We both stopped what we were doing and stared at each other.  I'm sure the blinking lights on my bike were mesmerizing... he let out a sound.  I had never heard a porcupine sound before.  Like a crazy person, I talked to him... told him I was thankful to have gotten to see him tonight, that I was glad that being out later-than-intended had met with this great reward, and I told him that Jesus made him.  He replied by using his back feet to scratch his belly and his chest, then he bumbled away. First he tried to climb up an evergreen tree.  His forelegs held on to the lowest branch while his back legs scuffled the bark trying to get some traction.  No luck.  After about a minute he gave up... scratched again, let out another sound.  Then he bumbled along towards me, then veered off onto the trail and walked out of sight.  Now I was the one mesmerized watching him... I stayed until he was completely out of sight.  Though I have seen some great porcupines in the wild before, I had never had quite this kind of variety show before.  It was delightful.

So why was I so excited about a moaning, awkward, non-tenacious creature like this?  To understand my thrill, you must understand something else.  My parents had a pet porcupine before I was born.  Albert was found as a baby, starving in the garden.  My dad, always kind to animals, nursed him back to health with patience and gentleness.  In return Albert looked to my dad as his mother.  So, having heard those stories from forever, I've always had a special place for the little critters, even though I almost never saw one in the wild when I was growing up.  Then, in the days after my dad died, a porcupine hung around the farm.  And it reminded me of the goodness and kindness and gentleness in my dad.  It also reminded me of the kindness of another Father, whom I believe gave the porcupine as a gift to our family in those most difficult of days.  Evidence that even if it was a long time ago, something special and unique and happy happened in our lives... and a wonderful memory was born.

So now, spotting a porcupine gives me a thankful nostalgia, for the father who loved a starving little critter back to life, and another Father who fervently does the same.  

Spring

Let me tell you about a typical Canadian "spring" day I experienced.  Walked to school in the sunshine; walked home in a snowstorm... but the sun was still shining.  On the way home I saw both a (yes, a - single, one) car covered in snow (all others weren't), and the first tinge of green in the partially snow covered grass.  A typically Albertan Spring day... winter and summer, dying and living, both alive in the same moment.  To those not from here, it seems impossible.    

Spring has been hard coming this year in Alberta... unseasonably cold with lots of snow (For emphasis, I'm still working on this post April 14th and we got another dump of snow today... and again now that it's the 24th).  In fact, it can be hard to believe that Spring is coming at all.  But I have faith that it is coming, for spring has followed every winter that has come before.  Because of this faith, I can see signs everywhere that winter is about to give way to new life.  I see it in longer days, buds forming on dead branches, and grass that offers a tinge of colour.  I can even see it in big wet snowflakes.   All circumstances further strengthen my hope because every minute sign announcing spring's arrival is met with anticipation, and these sightings in turn build my faith that it will be here soon.  It is a wonderful positive feedback system.

However, it's made me think ... I wish that I believed in God the way that I believe in Spring.

The truth is, He is more impending than the seasons, more reliable than the sun, and more faithful than the birds that return year after year.  

Though I feel the exploration of this idea is far from finished, I also feel like it's time to post anyways... But I do want to say that I am thankful for a Son that shines in the storms.