Give me a thousand lifetimes... and I will be able to fix nothing. I will tie shoes, and I will memorize faces, and give piggy-back rides, and speak what truth I know to ears that sometimes listen... but these are little bits. And they fix nothing... like all things on this side of Jordan, even they must be redeemed. Even they must be grown and nurtured and watered... and turned for good.
I simply can't do that. But I will watch for it. Eagerly. Happily, even.
Someday, that one small person you noticed you have been reaching over the days and weeks... the one who has changed from a thorn in your side to your best listener and most eager helper... someday that little luminous person might look at you and say, "oh, I won't be here tomorrow. We're moving to Mississippi."
Things... never look the way we think they'd look if they were looking their best. But then, I'm not writing this story, am I?
Speaking of stories: I have a hard time with the way mine reads. But then, as someone reminded me, Mary could have/should have had such quibbles with hers as well. But she was too busy being amazed that God would find her, and speak to her, do something with her... regardless of what it was. There was simply too much God before her for her to see much else.
Was she silly? Should the New Testament writers have shown her wallowing in some need for self-discovery along the way?
Or then there was Job: this was all given, this has all been taken away. I do care that the name of the Lord is blessed... and seen as blessed.
Or how about the angels: because you are a wretched being, you encounter God stooping and entering your world to bring you to himself. You know grace. Grace is all around you. We strain our eyes and ears all day to catch a glimpse of this...
This summer is leaving me reeling... I have encountered stories that I can't imagine or fathom or make sense of... the kind of stories that you hear, and then you're quiet. We are all little pinches of clay, fashioned and molded and led... and some days the helplessness of this makes me crazy. (That is embarrassing, but honest.) And somedays the kindness and the mercy is so obvious. On the other side... of all of this... the theme of every story will be God's work. God's doing. His sustaining by his word, his holding together... his victory through his cross. Do you ever think about this? Someday we will have new eyes... and every storyline will have led to grace all along... it all will have led to Christ, and we will see it. And we will be thankful.
Hasten the day.
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