He was one of us.
That’s all I keep thinking.
One of us. Like flesh and blood, really. One of my own family. Koinonia, I guess you call it. Lives intertwined so significantly.
Hustle and bustle. Cook and clean, and cook again. Smile and give hugs and try to hear the Lord for weeping, hurting peers.
But it’s quiet now. They’ve all gone off to prepare for the beginning of final farewells. I’m alone, and am suddenly so sad. So overwhelmed by how it hurts.
He was one of us.
Man, it hurts.
a lost post from september.
After snuggling deep into a wool sweater all day yesterday (and avoiding puddles, having perpetually damp hair, and a chill affecting my spine), I am very happy to see today’s forecast: 68 and sunny. I think I’ll make sure to be outside a bit today.
I woke up at 7:00 this morning, which I haven’t done in awhile. It started with exhaustion catching up to me, sleeping consistently through my alarm, and finally giving up and letting sleep run its course. But that led to sleep getting the best of me, robbing me of early mornings, and leaving me with that awful sense of being lazy and a bit behind. Enough is enough, and last night I set my alarm. Funny how a little thing like getting up infuse my rest with a sense of anticipation.
Now if I can just start getting to bed at a reasonable hour. (These are the “growth curves” of being newly married: how to be a night person for him and a morning person for me…)
Days seem to disappear rapidly as of late. Not that they haven’t always, but now those hours melt away, dissipate, vanish into thin air as never before. It’s morning, and then it’s mid-afternoon. Before I know it, it’s time for candles and lamps and post-dinner chores. I only pray that I’m able to do what it is He has for me in this fleeting space of time. Grasping and holding certainly won’t help, but living in His presence, abiding in Him–that will fill these short days with meaning. It will cause my vapor of a lifespan to have impact.
Lord, use me today. My plans aren’t very grandiose. No one ever made history cleaning a bathroom–but somehow use me. Let the fragrance of Christ fill the rooms I enter and the conversations I have. Let my mind be on You and Your Kingdom. Fill my cup to overflowing.
Someone spoke to me recently about a lack of joy in their Christian experience.
A lack of joy. Hmmm…
I wondered. Why a lack of joy? Well, why an abundance of Joy?
I thought of Psalm 144.15:
Happy are the people whose God is the Lord!
How much that verse contains. How easy it is to rattle off, but how deep are the implications of God as your Lord. And what a key to unlocking joy it contains!
I thought of some Christians I’ve known, whose entire life has been a struggle over lordship–His or theirs. Their life is never completely submitted, and the usual questions they’re asking are, “Do I have to? How far can I go?” How much they miss!
If God is not your Lord, your life will never be all it was intended to be. Only the way that He has ordained can bring a fulfillment of peace, joy, and destiny.
If God is not your Lord, then you will never know Him as the Shepherd who leads you. You’ll never know the green pastures, the still waters, the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake.
If God is not your Lord, then you will never look at Him openly, unashamedly, with a sense of shared pleasure. Your eyes will be averted, knowing you’re not doing what He’s asked, knowing His eyes hold tears and brokenness. Your heart will grow weary of resisting, and hardened to the sense of flowing life we’re meant to have.
Yes, the Kingdom of heaven is righteousness, peace, and Joy, but it’s not a take it or leave it sort of thing. There is no 30-day trial, free of charge. We can have joy, but first, He must have our life. As long as there exists a power struggle in our hearts, there will be a lack of joy. God will not be a loving Father in our eyes when we are resisting, command after command. He will not be the constant source of joy we hear talked about when our hearts are a constant source of rebellion. We want to live as though the verse simply said, “Happy are the people whose official religion if Christianity”–but this is not an official sort of thing; it’s personal.
David said,
“You will make known to me the path of life; In Your presence is fullness of joy; In Your right hand there are pleasures forever,”
but first he said,
“The Lord is the portion of my inheritance and my cup; You support my lot. The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places; Indeed, my heritage is beautiful to me. . . I have set the Lord continually before me; Because He is at my right hand, I will not be shaken. THEREFORE my heart is glad and my glory rejoices; my flesh also will dwell securely… –psalm 16
Joy, blessing, happiness, a river of life–all available to those who bow their knees and their hearts, and make their life a daily confession of the lordship of Jesus Christ.
Who sustains my life?
None, oh Lord, but You.
And in Your hands
You hold all of my days.Not a thought, not a word
Escapes Your sight.
And if You see a sparrow fall,
Surely You see me.
I don’t feel like I can add much to what’s been said here and here, but I wanted to mention, for my own sake as much as anyone else’s, that the loss experienced this weekend has struck a deep chord of longing in my soul. I cried that night in bed as Ryan and I mourned together: “I just hate it here!”
That sentiment eventually found stability and became a reminder that this is not my home. A tragedy–unfair, unprovoked–has a way of jarring me awake just when I am being lulled by the comfort of this Age. Suddenly I see the world for what it is: fallen, corrupt, and under the rule of a warring faction whose insurrection must and will be put down. I remember that I yet have an enemy in death, and that our work is not done until Jesus returns and puts that, too, under His feet.
Tragedy reminds me that any security other than the Love of God in Christ Jesus is false and shifting as sand. Substitutes that a moment before held such promise are robbed of their deceitful disguise of hope and fall, awkward and lacking, into the shadows.
And I’ve been here before. I remember that “Why?” is not in the rules. I remember that Love and Grace and Hope that does not disappoint must answer the questions of my soul. Robbed once by death, I will not be robbed again by confusion. There will be no walls between the good heart of God and myself; rather, He will be the place I bury myself, and I will find safety even in the valley of the shadow of death.