June 27, 2012

It’s one of those days where different circumstances mired together create stark realities and muddled thoughts and emotions. On the date of today, June 27th, John and I are remembering our two-year anniversary. We were able to celebrate this past weekend and rejoice in God’s goodness and faithfulness over this last year and two. I grow evermore thankful each day for the Lord’s provision and blessing of John in my life, and the refining tool marriage is.

Yesterday, I received news at work that a colleague of mine is being let go due to company restructuring. He has worked for this company for over 25 years. He has a wife and a 15-year old daughter. The world of business and profits gets infinitely personal at times, as people make up the life-blood of a company and they are more than just a collection of statistics, productivity, or relevance. Yet, it doesn’t change the reality. My heart aches with the feeling of defeat he is feeling, as I watched him walk out yesterday with head low and shoulders slumping, on his way home to break the news to his family.

And, in national news, my hometown of Colorado Springs is fighting an out-of-control fire. It jumped the ridge yesterday and doubled in size last night, threatening thousands of homes and destruction imminent. I know many of these people; I’ve been in their homes; I’ve driven these curving roads; I remember these mountain faces of which I saw almost every day for 19 years. The fire rages. There is a smoke plume over 32,000 feet in the sky from it. The weather has been brutal for a week now, setting or coming close to records of high temperatures and low humidity levels—and relief does not appear to be in sight for the next few days, save for a thunderstorm possibility today that could actually make things worse.

Usually, the initial response in this is to pray. And, I have to some extent. Yet, more often, I’m left sitting in the presence of a God who I know to be infinitely personal and also dramatically powerful. Times like these of goodness, hardship, and tragedy all at once usually try to claw their way to their own answers to their own questions, Why the goodness of the Lord in my own life in marriage while others struggle with it? Why do the young, versatile people get to keep their job while one devoted to the industry and company must leave? Why an out of control fire in a beautiful place in weather where God could send rain and relief, but there is none so far? Yet, there often aren’t situational answers to these questions.

Several weeks ago, I wrote to a friend dealing with a death to someone close to her in the same week her sister was getting married. I wrote of how when pain and tragedy happen in the midst of praiseworthy things, it creates a seemingly irreconcilable conflict between the two. Yet, both of them, in their own ways, reveal the glory and need of the Lord at the same time. The Lord is all powerful, but He is merciful. And the Lord can make beauty out of the most desolate things and places—redeeming and making new what seems at present to be lost or destroyed.

Today, June 27th, 2012, I stand humbled at this infinitely powerful God whose ways I do not often understand, both in the blessings and in the tragedies. But today, I also rest in the presence of this infinitely personal Lord who has made a way to relationship with Himself because He has lived this life too, and died in our place for we can never save ourselves from ourselves or this uncertain world. Today, there is a more present need to embrace the fact that we do not always understand the ways of the Lord, as His ways and thoughts are higher than ours.

But He knows. Every day has been ordained by Him. Everything that happens, He allows to happen, for His purposes, not our own. In the uncertain, He is certain. And ultimately—in all things—with Him it is well.

Rings

Photo Credit: Ben Leshchinsky  Originally appeared here

In early June, there was a day of heavy rain in the NYC area. On my walk to work that morning from the subway, I got quite soaked from the waist down due to the downpour that opened up and instantaneously started flooding the sidewalk and casting raindrops at a 45 degree angle. It was just going to be one of those days, it seemed. At the end of the workday during my commute back home, a double rainbow appeared over Manhattan. I saw tweets and got text messages from people seeing it on the news, but I did not see it myself. That fact did not surprise me. It is harder to find obvious beauty here in this city, both literally and figuratively. If I had seen the rainbow directly, its blatant beauty would have caught me off guard as I would not expect such in a place like this.

John and I are coming up on a year of living here, on two years of being married. And in the last month or two, there have been some hard moments of the realities of living in this place. I have felt disillusioned, stretched beyond what I would like. We are no longer new in this city, yet we are still beginning—seemingly stuck residing in a tension. It was hard to see, to have a vision for this place that would involve me in it. And like being under the presence of a rainbow that was ever present, I could not see it myself.

To be granted vision, to be granted hope, to be granted relief in what feels to be longsuffering—these are the things I pleaded to the Lord for, as I was in need. It came in great measure over this last week. The written and spoken words of those who have gone before us in ministry and life here in Brooklyn again reminded me and brought new light to the privilege I have to be a part of it, even as it is hard. The gatherings of two or more—like it has occurred many times over this year—yet in these times I could see through the Lord’s eyes, not the situational blindness of my own. These people are not strangers any more. The walking and commuting together, sharing in pocket conversations that hold the rhythm of the train doors and passer-bys. The weekend trip to visit my brother that provided a relief and respite from the busy pace of the city, only to have the city welcome me back when I arrived. The confession of a mistake made to coworkers and receiving their grace, and in that honesty, a deeper trust and relationship forged. Laughter shared through email conversations with my boss about dragons drawn with chicken feet. The gathering of people in living rooms and large rooms to eat, pray, and celebrate. The speaking of plans for a new church community in this becoming beloved place and the people within it now and those yet to be.

And yes, I do know them. And they do know me. It reminds me ever so of how the Lord knows me, that He knows the deepest desires of my heart and how I connect with Him. Through quiet places and solitude, yes, but more so now, I find it through the rhythm of living life with these people, all in its messiness, vulnerability, laughter, and shared experiences, whether planned or spontaneous.

…

I think about a ring. I think about a covenant. I think about two years gone by and what has been established within it. I often pause in thankfulness to not be doing this alone, but with one the Lord has given me to that walks alongside me from the dawn of the morning to the darkest moments of the night, day in and day out. We draw strength from one another in those moments where one is weak and the other strong. In those moments where we both are weary tired and flesh fail, we reside together and run to Him together in it.

I know the Lord grants strength for whatever He puts before us in whatever stage of life we are in, but I am ever grateful that part of the strength He has granted has come in the form of my beloved as we do this side by side.

And as I think about this ring, I think about the importance of ministering within it. John is the one to whom I must lay my life down for on this earth first and foremost. He needs to be my chief concern and the one I seek to serve and lift up. If I minister within this ring and covenant well, all those who fall outside and around it will be the better for it. The fullness within will permeate the boundaries and radiate outward, but emptiness will allow porous holes and things/people within it that should never reside there.

As I think about this earthly covenant, I am again reminded of the heavenly parallel, the covenant with the Lord. I think about the rainbow that I did not see, but there was testimony and evidence that it existed. It is an everlasting reminder of the covenant God established between himself and all flesh on the earth (Genesis 9). It points to the fullness that we have not been forgotten but always remembered through all time, to the point that He sent his son thousands of years later to die in our place so we would never again perish on this earth or eternity.

I once again remember the love of the Lord and how He knows me best. How He desires more for me that He chooses to show me his love tangibly not through a reminder I am familiar with (a physical rainbow), but rather a more recent covenant of marriage. Even further, a more recent encircling of community, a diverse ring of those I may not have handpicked but God has chosen to be around me. In a year’s time, I am beginning to see the beauty of the completion even in a beginning. The creation of a circle or ring always leads to and is intended for fullness. A rainbow too, is a complete circle rather than a half, but only being at a perspective height mirroring the Lord’s do we see that. That is a humbling fact not lost on me.

Though there has been great comfort and encouragement provided in what the Lord has allowed me to see within these various rings not a rainbow over the last couple weeks, I will still carry the reminder of the rainbow covenant within. The Lord’s faithfulness may not always be seen fully as we only see from our horizon points, but its existence is full and complete in every way.

He, not I

Boston Public Library © Elise Grinstead 2012

 
“What matters supremely, therefore, is not in the last analysis, the fact that I know God, but the larger fact which underlies it—the fact that he knows me. I am graven on the palms of his hands. I am never out of his mind. All my knowledge of him depends on his sustained initiative in knowing me. I know him because he first knew me, and continues to know me. He knows me as a friend, one who loves me, and there is no moment when his eye is off me, or his attention distracted from me, and no moment, therefore, when his care falters. This is momentous knowledge. There is unspeakable comfort—the sort of comfort that energizes, be it said, not enervates—in knowing that God is constantly taking knowledge of me in love and watching over me for my good. There is tremendous relief in knowing that his love to me is utterly realistic, based at every point on prior knowledge of the worst about me, so that no discovery now can disillusion him about me, in the way I am so often disillusioned about myself, and quench his determination to bless me.” –JI Packer

In the first few months of living in NYC, there was a lot of listening. I feel these past few months have been more full of talking/responding. These past few months have been full of looking to abide in the Lord, resting when He allows, praying prompted or not, and moving forward in faith as He calls and leads. If the resounding lesson had to be wrapped up in one statement, it would be “I trust You. There is never any reason to doubt You to be any less than who You are. I know You.”

Yes, I know the Lord, and praise Him that I do. Praise Him that by His grace and strength, I may leave the elementary teachings of the Lord and move on toward maturity (Hebrews 6). Yet, in all the attempts to defy the culture’s manner of seeking to know and gratify the self, still it trickles in.

“I know the Lord.” And, I seek to understand myself better through the Lord’s eyes. It all sounds good—and even right—yet I am missing the deeper point to reach. It should not start with I or me. It should start with Him. My perception is so limited. Why should I start with myself and seek feebly to grow it? Why do I not start with Him who knows me and seek Him first instead? Out of that pursuit, I can trust Him to reveal what He will and what He deems worthy for me to know. I can trust the discernment given by the Holy Spirit in my words, actions, and thoughts. As I seek Him first and abide in Him, it is there full life is found, a fount never running dry. My thoughts and life should start and end with Him as the source.

Too, in my relationships, it should not be about what I think I know of this person or what I assume. It should be about seeking the Lord’s wisdom and revelation of who He sees this person to be. My perception is so limited. Why should I start with myself and seek to understand out of me? Why do I not start with Him who knows others and seek Him for understanding first instead? Out of that pursuit, I can trust Him to reveal what He will about that person and what He deems worthy for me to know. I can trust the discernment given by the Holy Spirit in my words, actions, and thoughts about that person. As I seek Him first and abide in Him, it is there fullness of relationships as they are designed to be are found, driven by the One who knows us both fully. My relationships in my life should start and end with Him as the source.

“Do I turn to what God says or to my own fears? Am I simply repeating what God says, or am I learning to truly hear Him and then to respond after I have heard what He says?” -Oswald Chambers

I pray that I would seek to listen and then respond. It is this stage of growing into maturity that I must grow more consistent in. This relationship with the Lord is not just a recitation back to Him of what I know Him to be. He is unchanging. My faith can always rest secure in Him. I am the sinner. I am the one always changing. This relationship with the Lord is dynamic in that He desires to refine me, shape me, lead me, teach me. If I only speak and not listen, I am a broken record, never moving onto further depth.

Yes, I know the Lord, and praise Him that I do. But now, let me seek to listen, to hear, to be willing to let this concept I have of self be changed according to His measure—whether it be small or great. He knows me. In his book all my days are written, every single one of them (Psalm 139:16). As I seek to truly hear Him, then may my response come after I have heard what He says, not before. If he chooses to be quiet, then too, in His quietness I may trust (Isaiah 30:15).