Sometimes I long for the idealism of my youth. Everything was black and white, right or wrong. Shades of gray were unacceptable because I had it all figured out, you know - life, faith, the reason for living, etc. I thought I knew so much! Ummm, yeah. Not any more. Now I really am smarter and know that, well - I know VERY little. And for that I owe all of the credit to God. He has done a stellar job of deconstructing my ideals, and much to my chagrin he constantly escapes the box I try to keep him in. Darn it! If he would just be who I want him to be.... At least I can be thankful for the fact that he is more interesting and gracious and compassionate than how he was presented to me. He is more. He is beyond definition. He is mystery.
The past several years have found me finally resting in the mysteries of faith instead of trying to figure them out. And although there is nothing wrong with ideals and honest questions, for a long time I found myself wrestling with theology, and worrying about whether or not I was a Calvinist or Arminian more than just believing God and taking him at his word. His word became less about him and more about the various doctrines or opinions of others. It was a very limiting and legalistic way to live and view the world, sorely lacking in grace and love.
Now when I'm confused or find myself striving for answers I'll never have, I seek quiet and stillness. He always shows up and makes his presence known to me. He moves me with beauty. He loves me with compassion. He loves me with himself! He delights in calling my name ever so quietly. He speaks to me through his word. He is Immanuel. He is with me. He is. His mystery dances with truth and I no longer try to tear them apart or analyze and dissect them, because God knows I hate it when others do that to me! And as I've I've begun to expose the deep wounds of my heart to his love I've discovered that there is healing and hope, I've discovered that I can rest in his mystery.
The past several years have found me finally resting in the mysteries of faith instead of trying to figure them out. And although there is nothing wrong with ideals and honest questions, for a long time I found myself wrestling with theology, and worrying about whether or not I was a Calvinist or Arminian more than just believing God and taking him at his word. His word became less about him and more about the various doctrines or opinions of others. It was a very limiting and legalistic way to live and view the world, sorely lacking in grace and love.
Now when I'm confused or find myself striving for answers I'll never have, I seek quiet and stillness. He always shows up and makes his presence known to me. He moves me with beauty. He loves me with compassion. He loves me with himself! He delights in calling my name ever so quietly. He speaks to me through his word. He is Immanuel. He is with me. He is. His mystery dances with truth and I no longer try to tear them apart or analyze and dissect them, because God knows I hate it when others do that to me! And as I've I've begun to expose the deep wounds of my heart to his love I've discovered that there is healing and hope, I've discovered that I can rest in his mystery.
"I'd forgotten who I was until I stumbled through my history. I came to life because you were there." Without a Clue, by Matthew Perryman Jones.
"Take me to a place where love can mend these wounds, where mystery can dance with truth, and the broken soul finds refuge......lead me to a place where beauty dwells." Refuge by Matthew Perryman Jones.
