Grit and Glory

I much too frequently begrudge the gritty stuff of the world, the demands and inconveniences of every day, the wearing out of stuff and the wearing down of body. But it is in these things where the glory of God often makes itself known.

I tend to separate earthly and spiritual, leaning toward the peaceful "heavenly" things and sometimes resisting the needy earthy things that encompass my days, to say nothing of the needs of the people I know. Often my heart does not go toward them. I can resent it, feeling that it costs too much.

But I suspect that God sees the damaged whole as one huge amazing picture where the threads of His glory warp and weft right through the burlap-like fiber of life that tends to rub us raw. Oh God...let me see a more accurate glimpse of this world as You do. Let me see the hope and potential of the ragged situations that irritate me. Give me a desire to invite You into them, into my own heart more fully, to let You have full reign to do what You do, rather than bristle, shrug, and turn my back on the things that need Your redemption and healing. I'm sure You are already there, wondering why so many of Your people lag behind.

"On earth as it is in heaven."

Photograph: Driveway Stones, by Jenna

Either

Either He's God or He's not.

Either He's my provision or He's not.

Either I believe it or I don't.

Hope is not a desperate wish, but a growing confidence in a God who is.

Photo by Jenna

Transformation

The irritations of my

Life can either be

Perceived as difficulties

Or as opportunities

Instead of casting them

Aside I can take them

In hand and give them

Up to Him in prayer

He will take each one of

Them and wrap it in His

Love and power

Amazing grace

Raise it from the damaged

Places of my life

Transforming it throughout

My days

Like the sand inside the

Oyster that is wrapped with

Many lustrous layers in time

And later it reveals

A beauty, all my troubles

Can be wrapped with glory-light

He'll drape them on me one day

Showing how He

Beautifully restored the tragedies

Out of all the ash

For something precious

for His very own

I AM

I AM. To the human mind the name aches for completion. I AM (who)? I AM (what)? How are we to know a God who won't disclose Himself by finishing the sentence?

I sit here with a Bible full of descriptions that often seem maddeningly incomplete, or even contradictory. And yet, if I could grasp and comprehend the breadth of His completeness, I may be less in awe of the magnitude of Him.

He has told much about who He is. I needn't be discouraged about what I do not yet know. Understanding what He has revealed would take more than this lifetime. Perhaps more than all of our collective lifetimes.

Day One

The laboring woman gave one final push and the baby made a grand entrance, announcing his evening arrival with a loud and lusty first cry. He was checked quickly by the doctor and nurses even though he appeared to be perfect, then was wiped clean, wrapped in a soft blue blanket and placed into his mother's waiting arms. His father had been attentive throughout the pregnancy, looking after his wife and anticipating with her the arrival of their first baby. These months had held more than a few setbacks and complications. Now he was one proud and grateful papa, amazed at the sight and size of his tiny new son.

The father moved to the head of the delivery table and began to wheel his wife and son into the corridor. But instead of taking the expected right turn toward the recovery room, he proceeded through the hospital hallways straight toward the infectious disease ward, and once there, moved from bed to bed, placing his tiny son into the arms of each person there. The startled patients were not used to having visitors in this depressing and unattractive place. It wasn't safe here.

No one could have anticipated this absurd scene. Yet, it really shouldn't strike us as odd or unfamiliar. After all, it's precisely the story we celebrate every Christmas. It was that special night when God the Father sent His Son here to planet earth, where there was not even one person who could be considered "well" in His eyes. All of us were deathly ill, trying to fight off with fleshly knowledge and sheer determination what we were not equipped to conquer. We had already been given the news and the report was not good. "It's terminal," they'd told us as gently as possible. We knew we were dying before they said the words. We could feel it. And then the Father brings His tiny Son here, right into the thick of the mess and says to each of us, "Would you like to hold the baby?" In our arms now was the miracle cure we were afraid would not come in time. But He has come. It is very good news.