I’m rational enough to realize that romance isn’t necessarily the stuff I’ve been reading and seeing in movies all my life. I think that if someone [he would have to be crazy and half-blind] ever proposed to me, I wouldn’t be thinking about how handsome he is. I would be thinking of my mother and how much she gave to be who she is, to make me what I am- her early mornings and meals and sacrifices for daddy. I would think of how much this question means… children, housework, dirty socks… kisses, Christmas mornings, stubble on his cheeks… and I would wonder, is he the one I need/am I the one he needs? Can we do the life thing together for the rest of the days in our allotted sum? Only after all these things had fled through my mind and I had answered yes- only after I had evaluated the million joys and frustrations and said yes to them would I say yes to the man in the moonlight.
I need to repent of my repentance;
I need my tears to be washed;
I have no robe to bring to cover my sins,
no loom to weave my own righteousness;
I am always standing clothed in filthy garments,
and by grace am always receiving change of raiment,
for thou dost always justify the ungodly;
I am always going into the far country,
and always returning home as a prodigal,
always saying, Father, forgive me,
and Thou art always bringing forth the best robe.
Today I worked for a Thanksgiving meal & watched all the families making memories around the tables. The little people with big solemn eyes made me realize just what a big grown up I am…working at my own life and future, instead of wrapped up in my family. And since I’m a college kid far from home, I accepted one of several invitations for a real Thanksgiving dinner in an actual home. The table was so big it had to go in sideways, and shoulder to shoulder we all passed the dishes. I wondered at the sixteen conversations all going on at once, and thought of home where only one reigned around the small table. Then later during the movie, the lights went off and my heart woke up. I can only push down the loneliness for so long… sometimes, I would give anything to have a strong shoulder.
I have gone like a moth from candle to candle. I have been setting up a gallery of idols for my entire life. I have gazed into a mirror instead of gazing at God. My own face has been more important than eternity and the souls of men… one look at my record of spending will tell you that I spend exactly ten percent on God, and whatever I want on makeup and jewelry. My actions are determined by my own comfort and self image, not by the voice of the Holy Spirit within me. By what blindness do I call myself a passionate, surrendered child of God! Change must begin here- the change that seems impossible, so trained I am to my own conceit. All I can do is prostrate myself to God and ask Him to remake me, whatever it takes.
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Whistler’s series of nocturne paintings absolutely sweep me away. Check out http://www.the-athenaeum.org/art/by_artist.php?id=428 to view the entire series, as well as almost two hundred of his other works. Art student’s paradise…
I have been pondering the benefits of life in a nunnery. Nothing would matter there except God. I wouldn’t have to worry about my hair or my face or my clothes or technology or personality. I could just be alone and very quiet and devoted, and learn the things that matter from God Himself… and then I would probably begin dreaming of all the stuff I left behind, because I am human and wouldn’t like asceticism forever- only as long as the last good meal filled me. Maybe there is a happy medium? just a simple, lone life with the things that really matter to me and God, and not the crushing influence of whatever other people want me to be or what they want me to spend my money on. How about a studio of my own with a cat and an espresso machine, and lots of books and movies and selfishness galore? ugh! I am so sick of my own humanity!
As far as the rational soul exceeds the senses,
so does the spirit exceed the rational in its knowledge of thee.
Thou has given me understanding to compass the earth,
measure the sun, moon, stars, universe,
but above all to know thee, the only true God.
I marvel that the finite can know the Infinite,
here a little, afterwards in full-orbed truth;
Now I shall know but a small portion of what I shall know,
here in part, there in perfection,
here a glimpse, there a glory.
To enjoy thee is life eternal, and to enjoy is to know.
Keep me in the freedom of experiencing thy salvation continually.
-Valley of Vision
Today started out as such a horrible Monday that I had to laugh. I seriously took my shampoo in the shower and forgot to use it, and had a horrible hair day. I had gotten up early to finish an assignment that wasn’t due after all, my ceramics project broke, and I ran out of coffee. Tragedy of all tragedies, I know. At work I had a horrible headache and felt like a sleepwalker. I thought, “you know God- you could show your love to me by letting me off work early or something.” But I did stop and thank Him for the apple butter for dinner, which is something I miss from home that they served today. I couldn’t think of anything else more special than the apple butter to thank Him for, though I tried…I just thought, now I have to be strong and not expect anyone to come and bail me out. No soft stuff here.
Then my supervisor came in a whole twenty minutes early and practically shoved me out the door before I was even done with my tasks. This never, ever happens… and in my room tonight, some random ice cream showed up from no where that had to either be eaten or thrown away. And there is more- it was a flavor that we got at home once, and I loved it so much I ate practically the whole container. Free ice cream, my favorite flavor, delivered to my room… this is a God thing.
My God gives me blessings over and above, shaken together and running over. I doubted Him today and couldn’t see them… In His mercy, He knew I needed something special, and He sent some miraculous ice cream… oh to trust Him more!
Today I just stopped and drank in this psalm, because I was too tired to even think one more thought without reading about my God. So for whatever reason you happen to be on my humble blog, what you really need is His words instead of mine… consider this.
“The LORD reigneth, he is clothed with majesty; the LORD is clothed with strength, wherewith he hath girded himself: the world also is stablished, that it cannot be moved.
Thy throne is established of old: thou art from everlasting.
The floods have lifted up, O LORD, the floods have lifted up their voice; the floods lift up their waves.
The LORD on high is mightier than the noise of many waters, yea, than the mighty waves of the sea.
Thy testimonies are very sure: holiness becometh thine house, O LORD, for ever.”
Psalm 93, KJV
“Arise, and go down to the potter’s house, and there I will let you hear my words.”
Today I discovered for myself why people always use the overworked illustration of the potter and the clay. I’m the type of person that avoids cliches like the plague, but I couldn’t help getting a personal viewpoint on the issue as I work the clay in the ceramics lab. It has never been this clear before. Am I really like that stupid clay that wobbles and shudders and squishes and won’t stay in the center? Ninety nine times out of a hundred, I get angry and throw it out.
“And the vessel he was making of clay was spoiled in the potter’s hand, and he reworked it into another vessel, as it seemed good to the potter to do.”
He is the Potter, and you are the clay. So, please hear the short moral of my torturous night wrestling with clay — don’t struggle against His work in your life unless you want to bring yourself more trouble and pain.
“O house of Israel, can I not do with you as this potter has done? declares the LORD. Behold, like the clay in the potter’s hand, so are you in my hand, O house of Israel.”