So we know that we need to listen to his story, the story he's been telling since the dawn of time. Sometimes it's hard to listen, to see past the bend in the road of our own story. We're headed down a path and it's come to a dead end, or we're in the middle of a hairpin turn and can only imagine where we are going next. During these times we take it on faith that because he tells good stories he will continue to tell a good story in our life. We can’t stand it when we can’t see what’s next, it drives us nuts, especially when we thought we had a handle on things.
Sometimes when we are in the middle of a season of dryness we see our friends that are happy and we get jealous. I know I am guilty of this and have even expressed my resentment to them at times. What I’m trying to do, instead, is to look at their stories as evidence of his goodness, instead of a picture of something I don’t have. My friends just got engaged yesterday and it's such a good story. I celebrate it and remind myself that he has that for me too. Or even if he doesn’t have marriage for me, what he does have will be just as good as the happiness he’s given them.
We also need to feed ourselves with the beauty of the gospel story. Remind ourselves that the conquerer of death is madly in love with us. Remind ourselves of that lonely Sabbath day the disciples must’ve spent shut up somewhere miserable with despair. Their Lord, the person they had dropped everything for had met a bloody horrific death right before them. They must’ve asked how this could fit into the Kingdom. What possible purpose could God have for killing his son. What about the whole bringing his kingdom to earth, how could he do that if he was dead. If he had just been killed, was he even who he said he was? Theres no way they could’ve seen past that moment, and even if they’d been allowed to, they wouldn’t have understood. Looking back, that day of mourning for their Lord was a small price to pay. I think that’s how he tells our stories. I try to think of this time as a long Sabbath day, where nothing makes sense, where no possible series of explanations will make my feelings seem okay. But comfort is here because the day before Easter was a day of mourning, and it’s darkest just before dawn. He is a master author and he knows what he’s doing. If we allow him to he will write us the most beautiful stories.
2 comments:
This is great. Just what I needed.
You keep writing all the things that are inside of me that can't make words. I am so thankful for you, my friend.
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