My worldview has been wrecked on multiple occasions over the last year and a half. I almost wish that was an exaggeration, but it is not. Sometimes for the better, always for the unknown.
Each time feels unprecedented, each revelation seemingly irreconcilable with life as I have known it. But that's the point. Each of those instances has been a point of no return. One cannot put bubbles back in the bottle after pouring out dish soap. We cannot shrink our minds or appetites for adventure back down to former size once God has blown them wide open with possibility. (Plus, it's much more fun to have bubbles everywhere.)
Faith tastes like the gunpowder-residue air that comes with fireworks. There's a right good chance that things will explode, but it's going to be beautiful. Whenever it happens. However it happens.
Why is it that as we're eagerly searching the skies, refraining from blinking as much as we are able, barely hanging on to the edge of our seat in anticipation... we're still terrified that we'll miss it?
Our hearts are set on God having his way in our lives. We've thrown open the doors and begged him to renovate the house he's given us however he chooses, and yet we can still become paralyzed by the thought that we might end up homeless.
I would much rather hand God a sledgehammer than close the blinds when he comes knocking at the door of my heart.
While much pseudo fear is hollering about how scary walking by faith might actually be, what could be called real fear is clamping its fist around that screechy voice and calmly asking me if I would rather take the glory God has sown into my life and bury it until the day of judgment. I say no. I open my Bible and remind myself that the Lord orders the steps of the righteous and yes, that does include me because of the gift of salvation I have received through Jesus Christ, in whom I am permanently kept and carried.
I have traded vanity for eternal significance. I have traded the "freedom" of my own twisted will for the true freedom of obedience in God's ways. I have approached the throne of grace with open hands, and offered the tiny seed of my life to the Lord of all. (He smiled like a father receiving a hand-drawn portrait from his small child, and closed his fingers around it gingerly.)
I became the girl who was ready to quit higher education and plant churches in the Amazon. I became the girl who felt called back to the mission field she knew as "normal." I became the girl who thought she knew who she was going to end up with (again). I became the girl who no longer had any semblance of a timeline, plan, program - anything - for her life.
And each of those points of no return taught me to trust the Lord more. Each of those "world turned upside down, no, wait, right side up again" moments threw the reflex switch in me and, instinctively, I grabbed hold of God more earnestly, desperate to steady myself in him. This week is no exception.
I know he's trustworthy. I know he's able and willing. I know he's faithful, and strong, and tender, and kind, and everything my heart has ever longed for. I love that he knits together lives that burst at the seams with passion and adventure. I love that he writes stories that bleed beautiful redemption and overflow with deep contentment.
I know it will cost everything I have. It will be more painful than I can anticipate, and more difficult than I can comprehend right now.
I know it is worth everything I have. That abundant life is my new dream. (Tangled reference, anyone?)
So. With joy in my heart, I make the trade. I give God the sledgehammer, knowing he's a dynamite carpenter.
Every day I make the trade. Every day he waters the little seed of my life. Every day we work for the fruit he will bring from it. Every day I hand over my rights and my reins and hold my breath for the fireworks.
Comments
Post a Comment