Have you ever experienced and existential crisis? The threads of your life unspool at an alarming rate. You are left scrambling trying to catch the tangled strands muttering to yourself, “No. Wait. This isn’t what I thought. Oh, now please don’t do that. Come back here. Oh bother.” There is humor, of course. There is also a deeper purpose of having things unravel. We untether from those less sacred “securities” and re-affix to His mast.
I am currently amid deep change. As one would hope, it isn’t just in on area of my life. Nope. Colorful threads are helter-skelter. Amid this beautiful mess I stand and remember to breathe. I remember to slow my heartbeat and match it to His. My prayers are knitted together with a tinge of fear of making a mistake. I don’t want to be outside His will. I thread my prayers together, a colorful tapestry. I hang them on a string creating pennants. And, I see those previous strips in various arrays of colors and seasons. I’m reminded of the blood-stamp of answered prayer, and how He has always been faithful.
There are times I feel an insufficient writer. There is no new way to whisper my heartbeat. All has been said ad-nauseum. I don’t have the ability to be creative or the desire. A muscle long atrophied, I don’t use this gift of God the way I should. In these weary moments of writer’s block and frustration I put pen to paper anyway. I find moments that I don’t have be eloquent. I write with a madness in my veins. Losing writing etiquette, structure, and grammar. It is where I feel most free and alive.
In the heart of me, I know who I am. I feel it seep into my bones and spill out like sweet nard. Yet, the world has elixirs of its own. The Deceiver uses them to manipulate and distort my emotions. Acid get poured in and corrodes my soul. Oh, my heart faints with the pain of this world. I sometimes don’t see the grace in it. The mercy rope is just outside my grasp.
I want to be seen as lovely. I wish to be appreciated – quirks and all. The depths of me cannot be mined. Even I don’t know the layers I possess. Only God!
The thing is, he is a master craftsman and he is an utmost expert in His field. He doesn’t make junk.
So, I pour out my desire. My intake. My exhale. Every fiber of my being in written word. I give myself over to the manic scratching of the pen on paper. Streams flow out of me and my soul settles. I begin to collect myself like rainwater in a bucket. I remember. I remember how to tell this narrative and am reminded of the love story of which I am apart.
I have no grand plan to revolutionize my life. In fact, I’ve learned in quiet and stillness how to give myself grace. There will be trials, but trials are seasons. All is a season. And, it is important to live fully in each moment of time.
We are part of a grand adventure. A narrative full to the brim of love, passion, hope, and purpose. We all have a part to tell in this story. We don’t even have to tell it well. We just need to tell it.
“God can pour on the blessings in astonishing ways so that you’re ready for anything and everything, more than just ready to do what needs to be done. As on psalmist puts it, He throws caution to the winds, giving to the needy in reckless abandon. His right-living, right-giving ways never run out, never wear out.
This most generous God who gives seed to the farmer that becomes bread for your meals is more than extravagant with you. He gives you something you can then give away, which grows into full-formed lives, robust in God, wealthy in every way, so that you can be generous in every way, producing with us great praise to God.” – 2 Corinthians 9: 8-11 MSG
“In peace [and with a tranquil heart] I will both lie down and sleep, for you alone, O LORD, make me dwell in safety and confident trust.” – Psalm 4:8 AMP
Reflection of Providence 